Chapter 10 - THE MOTHER WHO HAD BEEN ERASED
Clare Bennett Duca had never known her mother.
Her father told her she died shortly after giving birth.
There were no photographs.
No letters.
No stories.
Only a small silver locket Clare had worn as a child.
Now her father's letter claimed the truth was different.
She stared at the page.
"My mother is alive?"
Adrienne looked at her.
"Clare..."
She shook her head.
"Don't."
He stepped back.
Rebecca leaned forward.
"Take your time."
Clare continued reading.
Your mother's name is Isabella Bennett.
She was forced to disappear after discovering evidence connected to Victoria's financial scheme.
I told you she had died because I believed her life was in danger, and I feared telling you the truth would expose her location.
Tears blurred the words.
Clare's hands trembled.
I know this decision may be difficult to forgive.
But I hoped that one day, when the danger had passed, you would have the chance to meet her.
Clare covered her mouth.
Thirty years.
Thirty years believing she had no mother.
Thirty years watching other girls celebrate Mother's Day while she stood beside a grave that apparently held nobody.
Adrienne looked devastated.
"Clare, I'm sorry."
She turned toward him.
"Your aunt knew."
He lowered his eyes.
"Apparently."
"She stole my inheritance."
"Yes."
"She framed me for stolen diamonds."
"Yes."
"And she helped keep my mother away from me."
Adrienne said nothing.
Clare looked down.
For a moment, the entire world felt unbearably cruel.
Then Rebecca pointed toward the final page.
"There's an address."
Clare looked up.
A private residence in Connecticut.
Beneath it was a name.
Isabella Morgan.
A different surname.
A different life.
Clare's heart began racing.
"Can we find her?"
Rebecca nodded.
"We can try."
Two days later, investigators confirmed that Isabella Morgan was alive.
She was fifty-six years old.
She lived in a small town near the Connecticut coast.
And according to public records, she worked as an art teacher.
Clare stared at her photograph.
Dark hair streaked with silver.
Warm brown eyes.
A gentle smile.
Her own face looked back at her.
She began crying.
Adrienne stood beside the window.
"Do you want me to go with you?"
Clare looked at him.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she shook her head.
"No."
His expression tightened.
"I understand."
She swallowed.
"This is something I need to do without you."
He nodded.
"Of course."
The following morning, Clare traveled to Connecticut with Rebecca.
She stood outside a modest white house surrounded by hydrangeas.
Her heart pounded.
She knocked.
Footsteps approached.
The door opened.
A woman stood before her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Isabella's eyes widened.
"Clare?"
Clare couldn't breathe.
"Mom?"
The woman covered her mouth.
Then reached toward her.
"My baby."
Clare stepped forward.
And for the first time in thirty years, she fell into her mother's arms.
But their reunion carried one final revelation.
Isabella had never believed Clare was safe with the Duca family.
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And she had spent years collecting evidence against Victoria.
Evidence that could destroy the entire criminal empire.
