Chapter 3 - THE GRANDFATHER WHO CAME BACK FROM THE DEAD
Chaos erupted.
Reporters shouted Charles Hawthorne’s name.
Guests pushed closer.
Security guards didn’t know whether to remove him or protect him.
For twelve years, newspapers had referred to Charles as the late patriarch of Hawthorne Holdings.
There had been a memorial.
A foundation named after him.
A marble plaque at company headquarters.
Yet he stood beneath the chandeliers breathing, blinking, and staring directly at Sophia.
Eleanor recovered first.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Charles smiled without warmth.
“And yet here I am.”
Isabella gripped the table.
“Grandfather?”
He looked at her.
“You’ve grown into your grandmother.”
She shook her head.
“You’re dead.”
“A useful misunderstanding.”
Arthur Bennett stepped between them.
“I signed documents related to your estate.”
“Yes.”
“I attended your funeral.”
“I know.”
“You let everyone believe you were dead?”
Charles’s eyes never left Eleanor.
“Not everyone.”
The implication changed the air.
Eleanor knew.
Or someone close to her did.
Sophia moved forward.
“You said you paid Margaret.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To remove you from a dangerous house.”
Sophia’s anger rose.
“She made me live under a fake name. We moved eleven times before I turned twelve. I was told I could never use my real birthday. I wasn’t allowed to have photographs.”
Charles’s face softened.
“I know.”
“You know?”
“I received reports.”
Sophia stared at him.
“You watched?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you come get me?”
Charles’s silence was worse than any answer.
Sophia stepped closer.
“Why?”
He finally said:
“Because I couldn’t prove which person inside this family wanted you dead.”
The ballroom quieted again.
Isabella looked around instinctively.
“Wanted her dead?”
Charles nodded.
“Jonathan’s crash was not an accident.”
Eleanor whispered:
“Stop.”
Charles struck his cane against the marble floor.
“No.”
The sharp sound echoed.
“You’ve had twenty years of silence.”
He pointed toward Sophia.
“She gets the truth tonight.”
Sophia’s breathing quickened.
Charles continued.
“Jonathan learned there were irregularities in the family trust.”
Arthur frowned.
“What kind?”
“Someone had been moving shares through shell corporations using my authorization.”
Arthur looked stunned.
“Yours?”
“Forged.”
Eleanor crossed her arms.
“You’re changing the subject.”
“No. I’m finally reaching it.”
Charles looked toward Isabella and Sophia.
“Your father discovered the financial fraud the same week he requested the DNA test.”
Sophia frowned.
“What does one have to do with the other?”
“Everything.”
Charles reached inside his coat.
Security immediately moved.
He raised one hand.
“It’s paper.”
He removed a folded document.
“This is what Jonathan sent me the morning he died.”
Arthur took it.
The page was a handwritten note.
Eleanor closed her eyes the moment she saw it.
Arthur read aloud.
Dad,
I know who has been stealing from us.
I also know why one of the girls isn’t mine.
It is the same secret.
Do not trust Eleanor until I explain.
Isabella stood.
“What?”
Eleanor’s face hardened.
“Jonathan was paranoid.”
Charles looked at her.
“He was right.”
Sophia’s heart hammered.
“What does my paternity have to do with stolen money?”
Charles turned toward her.
“Because your biological father had access to Hawthorne accounts.”
Isabella whispered:
“Who?”
Charles hesitated.
Sophia stepped closer.
“No more delays.”
Charles looked directly at Eleanor.
Then he said a name.
“Thomas Vale.”
The reaction was immediate.
Several older guests gasped.
Arthur’s face changed.
Even Isabella knew the name.
Thomas Vale had been Jonathan Hawthorne’s closest friend and business partner.
He had disappeared the same year Jonathan died.
Sophia whispered:
“Thomas Vale was my father?”
Charles shook his head.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what did you say?”
“I said Jonathan believed Thomas was the father of one of you.”
Eleanor suddenly grabbed a champagne glass and threw it against the wall.
Everyone flinched.
“For God’s sake, Charles!”
Her voice cracked for the first time.
“You’re still doing it.”
Charles stared.
“Doing what?”
“Pretending you were protecting those girls when all you ever cared about was the company.”
Charles went cold.
Eleanor pointed toward him.
“Tell Sophia why Margaret was chosen.”
He said nothing.
“Tell her.”
Sophia looked between them.
“Why was she chosen?”
Eleanor laughed bitterly.
“Because Margaret wasn’t a nanny.”
Charles tightened his grip on his cane.
“She was Thomas Vale’s sister.”
Sophia went still.
Isabella covered her mouth.
Eleanor continued.
“And she didn’t take Sophia because Charles wanted to protect her.”
She turned toward Sophia.
“She took you because she believed you were Thomas’s daughter.”
Sophia’s voice dropped.
“Was I?”
Eleanor looked at her for a long moment.
Then whispered:
“No.”
Charles’s eyes closed.
Sophia felt dizzy.
“If Thomas wasn’t my father, then why did everyone think he was?”
“Because somebody switched the DNA samples.”
The words came from Arthur.
Everyone turned.
He was holding a second sheet that had been folded inside Jonathan’s letter.
A laboratory chain-of-custody form.
Two child samples.
One had been crossed out.
Reassigned.
And beside the alteration was a handwritten set of initials.
E.H.
Sophia stared.
Isabella whispered:
“Eleanor Hawthorne.”
Their mother looked at the initials.
Then at her daughters.
“That isn’t my handwriting.”
Charles leaned forward.
For the first time, genuine fear entered his face.
“No.”
He pointed at the page.
“Those initials don’t belong to Eleanor.”
Arthur frowned.
“Then who?”
Charles whispered:
“Elizabeth Hawthorne.”
Isabella’s face emptied.
Sophia had never heard the name.
“Who is Elizabeth?”
Charles looked toward the massive family portrait hanging behind the ballroom stage.
A beautiful blond woman stood beside him in the painting.
His late wife.
The girls’ grandmother.
Charles spoke carefully.
“Elizabeth was my wife.”
Sophia looked toward the portrait.
“But she died before we were born.”
Charles’s eyes remained on the painted woman.
“That is what I told everyone.”
Behind them, one of the ballroom doors suddenly slammed shut.
Sophia turned.
A woman in black had been standing in the corridor.
For one second, Sophia saw her face.
Then the woman disappeared.
Charles dropped his cane.
May you like
He whispered:
“Elizabeth.”
