Chapter 7 - The Mother I BuriedThe next morning, I received an address.
A private clinic outside the city.
No sender.
I went anyway.
A nurse led me through a quiet hallway.
Then opened a door.
A woman sat beside the window.
Her hair was longer than I remembered.
Her face was older.
But her eyes were the same.
My knees nearly gave out.
“Mom?”
She turned.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered my childhood nickname.
“Lena.”
I started crying.
I hated myself for it.
After everything I had learned, after everything I suspected, part of me was still six years old.
I walked toward her.
Then stopped.
“You’re alive.”
She nodded.
“For twenty years.”
“Why?”
She looked away.
“Because your father wanted me hidden.”
“You died.”
“No.”
“Everyone told me you died.”
“Your father told you I died.”
“Why?”
She closed her eyes.
“Because I betrayed him.”
Silence.
I sat opposite her.
“What did you do?”
“I helped create Blackstone.”
My heart sank.
“You were stealing from Dad?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“I was protecting you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“By disappearing?”
“I believed your father was going to destroy us all.”
“Us?”
“The people involved.”
“Julian?”
She nodded.
“Julian was twelve when I first met him.”
I stared.
“What?”
“He was abandoned by his biological father. Victoria raised him.”
“So Victoria is his mother?”
“She raised him.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
My mother hesitated.
“No.”
The word hung between us.
“Then who is his mother?”
My mother’s eyes filled with tears.
“Me.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“What?”
“I gave birth to Julian.”
I stood so fast the chair fell backward.
“No.”
“I was young.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
I backed away.
“You had Julian before me.”
“Yes.”
“And Dad knew?”
“Yes.”
“Victoria knew?”
“Yes.”
I stared at her.
“So Julian…”
“He is your half-brother.”
The room disappeared.
I could barely hear my own breathing.
“No.”
My mother stood.
“Lena…”
“No!”
I turned toward the door.
“Why did nobody tell me?”
“Because…”
“Why?”
“Because we needed to keep you safe.”
I laughed.
“Safe?”
I pointed toward myself.
“I married him!”
My mother covered her mouth.
She looked devastated.
“I know.”
I slammed my hand against the door.
“How?”
“Because Victoria arranged it.”
I stopped.
“Arranged what?”
“Your meeting with Julian.”
I turned slowly.
“What?”
“Your father thought Julian was loyal to him.”
“And Victoria?”
“She wanted access to your inheritance.”
My heart pounded.
My mother whispered:
“But that was not her only reason.”
“What other reason?”
My mother looked at me with horror.
“She wanted you bound to Julian because she believed the bloodline was the key to a trust your father created.”
I stared.
“A trust?”
“Yes.”
“What trust?”
She walked toward a cabinet and pulled out an old document.
“The Whitmore Trust.”
My fingers trembled as I read the title.
Then I saw the final line.
Beneficiary: Elena Grant.
I looked up.
“Why am I the beneficiary?”
My mother’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“Because your father knew one day they would come for you.”
Then the door behind us clicked.
Someone had entered.
A familiar voice said:
May you like
“Your mother should have told you the rest.”
Julian.
