Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN WHO CALLED HER DAUGHTER
Sophia couldn’t move.
The alarm screamed around her.
Guests rushed past.
But all she heard was the woman’s voice.
I’m your mother.
Sophia pulled her wrist free.
“No.”
The woman did not chase her.
“You have Eleanor’s eyes when you’re angry.”
“That doesn’t make you my mother.”
“No.”
The woman’s expression softened.
“But giving birth to you does.”
Sophia stared at the silver-blond hair, the elegant face, the birthmark.
“You’re Elizabeth Hawthorne.”
“Yes.”
“Charles’s wife.”
“Yes.”
“That would make you Jonathan’s mother.”
“Yes.”
Sophia felt sick.
“Then you cannot be mine.”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled.
“That is why they buried everything.”
Sophia stepped backward.
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
The service hallway shook with distant shouting.
Elizabeth looked toward the smoke.
“We don’t have long.”
“Then start talking.”
Elizabeth lowered her voice.
“Jonathan was not my biological son.”
Sophia froze.
“What?”
“Charles and I adopted him privately as an infant.”
“Does Charles know?”
“He always knew.”
Sophia’s thoughts raced.
“Then if Jonathan wasn’t your biological son…”
“I was not genetically related to him.”
The implication was horrifying but no longer biologically impossible.
Sophia shook her head.
“No.”
Elizabeth continued before she could stop her.
“I was forty-three when I became pregnant.”
“With me?”
“With a child.”
“By who?”
Elizabeth looked away.
Sophia’s stomach twisted.
“Jonathan?”
Elizabeth snapped back.
“No.”
The relief was immediate but short-lived.
“Then who?”
“Thomas Vale.”
Sophia almost laughed.
The same name again.
“Thomas?”
“He was younger than I was. It was a mistake.”
“A mistake that produced me?”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Sophia stared.
“Then how did I become Eleanor’s daughter?”
“You didn’t.”
“What?”
Elizabeth leaned closer.
“You were never Eleanor’s daughter.”
The world seemed to tilt.
“Then the photograph?”
“Staged.”
“The birthmark?”
Elizabeth’s expression grew strange.
“Not a birthmark.”
Sophia touched the mark beneath her eye.
“What is it?”
“A small scar.”
Sophia’s hand dropped.
Elizabeth continued.
“You and Isabella received identical injuries when you were toddlers.”
“How?”
“I don’t know the full story.”
Sophia’s voice cracked.
“So I’m not Isabella’s twin.”
“No.”
“Not her sister.”
Elizabeth hesitated.
“Not biologically.”
Sophia laughed through rising tears.
“Then why was I living in their house?”
“Because Thomas disappeared before you were born.”
“And?”
“I was terrified Charles would take you.”
“So you gave me to Eleanor?”
Elizabeth looked ashamed.
“I asked Jonathan.”
Sophia stared.
“He agreed to pretend I was his daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he loved me.”
Sophia’s stomach turned again.
“Loved you as his mother?”
Elizabeth closed her eyes.
“As the woman who raised him.”
Sophia could barely follow the web.
“So Isabella was actually Jonathan and Eleanor’s daughter.”
“Yes.”
“And I was Thomas and your daughter.”
“Yes.”
“We weren’t born on the same day.”
“No.”
Sophia’s voice became flat.
“Then why did everyone celebrate us as twins?”
“You were born thirteen months earlier.”
Sophia stared.
Thirteen months.
A full year of her life erased.
“Why?”
“Because hiding you inside the Hawthorne family was the safest place Jonathan could think of.”
Sophia shook her head.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It did until Thomas came back.”
“When?”
“The night Jonathan died.”
Sophia stopped.
Elizabeth’s face tightened.
“Thomas wanted you.”
“Why?”
“Not because he loved you.”
Elizabeth’s voice dropped.
“Because Charles had discovered the embezzlement.”
Sophia’s mind snapped back.
The stolen money.
The DNA tests.
The same secret.
“Thomas was stealing from Hawthorne Holdings.”
“Yes.”
“And he wanted me because?”
“He believed Jonathan had placed evidence in a trust under your name.”
Sophia stared.
“That’s why I was removed.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did Eleanor say one daughter wasn’t Jonathan’s?”
“Because that was the cover story.”
Sophia felt anger rising.
“Everyone keeps saying cover story.”
“DNA tests. Affairs. paternity scandals. Those were easier for a rich family to survive than the truth.”
“What truth?”
Elizabeth’s eyes hardened.
“Jonathan discovered Thomas wasn’t working alone.”
“Who was?”
Elizabeth opened her mouth.
A gunshot cracked somewhere beyond the service corridor.
Both women froze.
Then another.
Sophia instinctively ducked.
Elizabeth grabbed her arm.
“Move.”
They ran toward a stairwell.
Sophia resisted.
“Where are we going?”
“Down.”
“To what?”
“A vehicle.”
“I’m not leaving with you.”
“You will if you want Isabella alive.”
Sophia stopped.
“What?”
Elizabeth turned.
“Isabella isn’t with Eleanor.”
Sophia’s blood ran cold.
“How do you know?”
“Because the fire wasn’t meant to kill anyone.”
“What was it for?”
“A distraction.”
Elizabeth stared directly at her.
“To take Isabella.”
Sophia grabbed her phone.
No service.
She tried calling.
Nothing.
Elizabeth pushed open the stairwell door.
“Who wants her?”
Sophia demanded.
Elizabeth looked up toward the smoke-filled floor.
“Thomas.”
Sophia froze.
“You said he disappeared twenty years ago.”
Elizabeth’s expression changed.
“I said he disappeared.”
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Then she whispered:
“I never said he died.”
