Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Alexander moved before anyone could stop him.
He slammed Jonathan against the marble column.
Guests screamed.
“You touched my wife?”
Jonathan shoved him away.
“You don't know what happened!”
Alexander swung again, but Dante stepped between them.
“This won't get you to Madeline.”
Alexander's chest heaved.
“My brother kept my wife hidden for three years.”
“I know.”
“And she's pregnant.”
“I know.”
“With his child.”
“We don't know that yet.”
Jonathan straightened his tuxedo.
“You're all assuming things based on an ultrasound.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“Tell them about December nineteenth.”
Jonathan turned toward her.
She didn't flinch.
“You visited Madeline.”
Alexander's fists tightened.
Jonathan said, “I visited the facility many times.”
“After telling everyone you were in Switzerland?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Jonathan looked around the ballroom.
More than three hundred people were watching the Whitmore family destroy itself in real time.
Finally he said, “Because she was remembering.”
Alexander froze.
“Remembering what?”
“The accident.”
Nobody spoke.
Jonathan continued.
“Madeline didn't simply crash her car three years ago.”
Alexander stared.
“The police said she lost control during a storm.”
“The police were wrong.”
Vanessa whispered, “Stop.”
Jonathan looked at her.
“You wanted the truth.”
Alexander said, “What happened?”
Jonathan's voice lowered.
“Someone forced her vehicle off the road.”
A chill moved through the ballroom.
I looked at Lily.
She was listening too closely.
I bent down.
“Sweetheart, stay with Mr. Moretti's assistant.”
“No.”
“Lily.”
“I started this.”
Dante looked at me.
“She stays beside you.”
I wasn't thrilled about my daughter hearing any of this, but I trusted Dante's instincts about danger.
Alexander looked toward Jonathan.
“Who tried to kill her?”
Jonathan hesitated.
Cynthia suddenly screamed, “Don't you dare!”
Everyone turned.
Alexander walked toward her.
“You know.”
Cynthia shook her head.
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Yes, she knows.”
Cynthia's eyes filled with hatred.
“You pathetic idiot.”
Vanessa flinched.
“You think telling them will save you?”
“No,” Vanessa said. “But maybe it'll save Madeline.”
Dante studied them.
“Somebody needs to start talking before whoever controls that facility realizes we're coming.”
That created urgency.
Vanessa looked toward Alexander.
“Your father didn't die naturally.”
Alexander's face went blank.
“My father had a heart attack.”
“No.”
Howard Bell lowered his head.
Alexander noticed.
“You knew that too?”
Howard whispered, “There were concerns.”
“What concerns?”
“Your father believed someone inside Whitmore Industries was manipulating corporate accounts.”
Jonathan frowned.
Vanessa continued.
“He discovered millions had disappeared through shell companies.”
Alexander looked at his brother.
Jonathan immediately said, “That wasn't me.”
Cynthia laughed.
“Of course not.”
Dante turned toward her.
“Who was it?”
She stopped laughing.
Alexander stepped closer.
“Who?”
Cynthia glanced toward the ballroom doors.
Dante's men blocked them.
Finally she whispered, “Your mother.”
Alexander stopped.
The entire Whitmore family table erupted.
Eleanor Whitmore hadn't attended the gala that evening.
At seventy-two, she had spent the last year claiming poor health and rarely appeared publicly.
Alexander shook his head.
“My mother doesn't handle company finances.”
“She didn't need to,” Cynthia said. “She had people.”
Jonathan stared at her.
“You're insane.”
Cynthia smiled.
“You really think your mother loved either of you?”
Alexander's voice sharpened.
“Be careful.”
“She loved Whitmore.”
Vanessa whispered, “The name. The company. The dynasty.”
Cynthia continued.
“Your father wanted to break up the corporation. Sell several divisions. Give half his fortune to charity.”
Alexander remembered something.
“He mentioned restructuring.”
“He was planning more than restructuring.”
Howard finally spoke.
“Richard Whitmore prepared documents creating independent trusts for both sons and any future grandchildren.”
Jonathan looked toward him.
“You told us those drafts were never signed.”
Howard stared at the floor.
“They were.”
Alexander whispered, “Then why weren't they executed?”
Howard's eyes lifted.
“Because they disappeared the night your father died.”
Nobody breathed.
Three years earlier, Richard Whitmore had died in his bedroom after what everyone believed was a massive cardiac event.
Two weeks later, Madeline's car went over an embankment.
A burned body was recovered.
Jonathan identified Madeline's jewelry.
Alexander buried an empty coffin.
And the Whitmore empire continued exactly as Eleanor wanted.
I felt sick.
Dante asked the obvious question.
“Did Madeline know about the documents?”
Vanessa nodded.
“She found copies.”
Alexander closed his eyes.
“The locked drawer.”
I remembered what Lily had said earlier about Vanessa and Cynthia discussing the baby.
Dante clearly connected everything too.
“Madeline discovered evidence that threatened control of the company.”
Cynthia whispered, “And she made the mistake of telling Eleanor.”
Alexander looked stunned.
“My mother tried to kill my wife?”
Cynthia didn't answer.
Vanessa did.
“Yes.”
Alexander turned away.
The wealthiest man in the ballroom suddenly looked like a child whose entire family had vanished.
Jonathan spoke quietly.
“It wasn't supposed to happen that way.”
Alexander spun around.
“You knew?”
Jonathan's face broke.
“I knew Mom wanted Madeline frightened.”
“Frightened?”
“I didn't know she would have the driver force her off the road.”
Alexander grabbed him again.
“You knew someone was threatening her and said nothing?”
“I thought Mom was bluffing!”
Dante pulled them apart.
“We need the facility address and whatever access Jonathan has.”
Jonathan laughed bitterly.
“You think they'll let you walk into St. Catherine's?”
Dante looked at him.
“Yes.”
There was something about the way he said it that ended the argument.
Twenty minutes later, we were moving through the city in a convoy.
I had wanted Lily to remain at the hotel with police.
She refused until Dante promised two of his most trusted security people would remain beside us.
Alexander sat across from Jonathan in the SUV.
Neither man spoke.
Vanessa came with us.
Cynthia stayed behind under police supervision.
The family attorney had begun contacting authorities.
St. Catherine's sat forty miles outside the city behind iron gates and acres of winter-bare trees.
When we arrived, the gates were locked.
A director named Dr. Samuel Graves met us in the lobby.
He wore an expensive gray suit beneath his white coat.
“Mr. Whitmore, your arrival is unexpected.”
Alexander stepped forward.
“Where is my wife?”
Dr. Graves smiled professionally.
“Your wife is Vanessa Whitmore.”
Alexander slammed Madeline's ultrasound onto the desk.
The doctor's smile disappeared.
“Where is she?”
“I can't discuss patients.”
Dante appeared beside Alexander.
“You can discuss this one.”
Graves looked at Dante.
Recognition crossed his face.
Fear followed.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“You know who I am.”
“I know your reputation.”
“Then you know I don't enjoy repeating myself.”
Alexander said, “Madeline Whitmore. Room number.”
Graves swallowed.
“Ms. Whitmore is not currently here.”
Jonathan looked up.
“What?”
Graves frowned at him.
“You ordered the transfer.”
Jonathan went pale.
“I did no such thing.”
Dr. Graves glanced between them.
“I received authorization at 6:40 this evening.”
Dante's eyes narrowed.
“Authorized by whom?”
Graves walked to the computer.
He typed.
Then he froze.
“What?”
Alexander demanded.
The doctor rotated the screen.
The transfer authorization contained Jonathan Whitmore's digital signature.
Destination:
Whitmore Lake Estate.
Alexander stared.
“That house has been closed for twenty years.”
Jonathan whispered, “Not completely.”
Alexander looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
Jonathan closed his eyes.
“Our mother still uses it.”
Dante immediately turned toward the exit.
Then Lily spoke from beside me.
“Mom.”
I looked down.
She was staring through the glass doors into the dark parking lot.
“What?”
“A car.”
Far beyond the entrance, a black sedan pulled away from a service building.
Alexander rushed outside.
Dante's men followed.
The sedan accelerated.
One of Dante's vehicles blocked the road.
The sedan stopped.
The driver ran.
Security tackled him before he reached the trees.
We opened the rear door.
A woman lay across the seat beneath a hospital blanket.
Alexander made a sound I will never forget.
“Madeline.”
She was thinner than the photographs.
Her dark hair had been cut short.
Her face was pale.
But she was alive.
And beneath the hospital gown, her stomach was unmistakably pregnant.
Alexander fell to his knees beside her.
“Madeline.”
Her eyes fluttered open.
She looked at him without recognition.
Then she saw Jonathan.
Everything changed.
Her entire body recoiled.
“No.”
Jonathan stepped backward.
“Madeline—”
“Don't let him touch me!”
Alexander looked at his brother with horror.
Madeline grabbed my wrist.
Her fingers were ice-cold.
“He isn't the baby's father.”
Alexander stared at her.
“Who is?”
Madeline began crying.
She pointed toward Jonathan.
“He knows.”
Jonathan shook his head.
“No.”
Madeline whispered the name.
“Richard.”
Alexander stopped breathing.
“My father's name was Richard.”
Madeline's eyes closed.
“I know.”
May you like
Then she said the impossible.
“Because your father isn't dead.”
