Chapter 8 - THE MOTHER WHO RETURNED FROM THE DEAD
Alexander stared at the photograph of his mother as though the world had stopped turning.
For ten years, he'd mourned Eleanor Moretti.
He'd visited her grave every Christmas.
He'd donated millions to the medical clinic founded in her name.
And now she was standing beside Richard Hayes, the man who had destroyed my family.
"Alexander," I whispered.
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
"Are you okay?"
His eyes closed.
"No."
It was the first completely vulnerable answer he'd given me.
And somehow, it made me trust him more.
He didn't pretend to be unbreakable.
He didn't hide behind anger.
He simply admitted the truth.
"I'm not okay."
Marcus explained that the photograph had been taken by a private investigator monitoring Hayes's movements.
The woman's identity had been confirmed through facial recognition and archived medical licensing records.
Eleanor Moretti was alive.
But why had she disappeared?
And why was she with Richard?
Alexander reached for his phone.
Then stopped.
He looked at me.
"I want to go after them."
"I know."
"But that would be exactly what Richard expects."
I nodded.
"Then don't give him what he wants."
Alexander looked at me for a long moment.
Then contacted the investigators instead.
He provided everything Marcus had found.
The address.
The photographs.
The financial records.
For the first time, the powerful man everyone feared was allowing the law to handle something personal.
That afternoon, Richard Hayes was detained at a private airport after investigators obtained the necessary warrants.
Eleanor Moretti was located nearby.
She did not resist questioning.
According to the initial interview, she'd been living under an assumed identity for years.
But she insisted she wasn't Richard's accomplice.
She claimed she'd been forced to remain hidden because Hayes threatened to kill Alexander.
When Alexander received the news, he sat down heavily.
"My mother was protecting me?"
"That's what she says," Marcus answered.
I watched Alexander struggle with the possibility.
He'd spent ten years grieving a woman who might have been alive the entire time.
Part of him wanted to believe her.
Another part feared another betrayal.
I understood both feelings.
That evening, Eleanor requested to speak with Alexander.
He asked whether I'd accompany him.
I hesitated.
Then nodded.
At the federal interview facility, Eleanor sat behind a glass partition.
She looked older than in the photograph.
Tired.
But her eyes were unmistakably Alexander's.
When she saw him, she began crying.
"Alexander."
He stood motionless.
"Mother."
She pressed her hand against the glass.
"I'm sorry."
His voice shook.
"Ten years."
"I know."
"You let me bury you."
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I thought it was the only way to keep you alive."
Alexander closed his eyes.
Then asked the question I'd been waiting for.
"Where is Jonathan Carter?"
Eleanor looked at me.
Her expression changed.
"Emily?"
I nodded.
She began crying harder.
"Oh, sweetheart."
My heart pounded.
"You knew me?"
"I knew your father."
"Where is he?"
She hesitated.
Then whispered:
"Jonathan isn't being held because Richard wants his money."
I leaned forward.
"Then why?"
Eleanor looked directly at Alexander.
"Because Jonathan knows who really ordered your father's murder."
Alexander went completely still.
May you like
His father had supposedly died of natural causes.
And Eleanor was telling us he'd been murdered.
