Chapter 2 - The Name That Was Buried
There was one name my mother had forbidden anyone in our family from mentioning.
I had buried it with my wife.
Or so I believed.
"Grace's real last name?" I repeated.
Margaret stepped away from the staircase.
"Adrian, this is not the place."
"This is my house. My son is upstairs crying. And someone just told me the woman raising him has been lying about her identity."
Vanessa folded her arms.
"Perhaps your mother should explain why."
I turned to the two security guards waiting near the entrance.
"Escort Vanessa to the guest sitting room. She doesn't leave the property until I understand what's happening."
"You're making a mistake!" Vanessa protested.
"Then you should have told me the truth before you struck Grace."
Once she was gone, Margaret sank into an armchair.
"Her name was Grace Whitfield," she whispered.
I stared at her.
Whitfield.
The name hit me harder than a bullet.
"Claire's maiden name was Whitfield."
My mother nodded.
I felt the room tilt.
"Are you telling me Grace is related to my wife?"
"Not exactly."
"Stop speaking in riddles."
Margaret covered her face.
"Claire and Grace grew up together. Grace's mother worked for the Whitfield family. They were inseparable."
I struggled to breathe.
"Claire never mentioned her."
"Because they had a terrible falling-out before your wedding."
Overhead, I heard Noah laughing softly.
Grace was probably telling him one of her ridiculous bedtime stories.
The thought made my chest ache.
"Why did you bring her here?"
"Because after Claire died, I received a letter."
Margaret opened her purse with shaking fingers.
Inside was an old envelope, its edges yellowed.
I recognized Claire's handwriting immediately.
My mother handed it to me.
The letter was short.
If anything happens to me, find Grace Whitfield. She knows things I was never brave enough to tell Adrian. But whatever happens, please let her protect Noah.
My eyes filled.
"Why didn't you show me this?"
"Because I was afraid of what Grace knew."
I read the letter again.
Then I noticed something written beneath Claire's signature.
Three words.
Ask about August.
August.
The month my wife died.
I looked up.
"What happened in August?"
My mother began sobbing.
May you like
And for the first time, she told me something that made me question the greatest tragedy of my life.
"Adrian, the night Claire died, somebody disconnected the security cameras outside her hospital room."
