Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO DISAPPEAREDI could barely breathe.
“What did you say?”
My father stared through the windshield.
“Your mother wasn't murdered.”
“Everyone told me she died.”
“They were wrong.”
“No.”
He turned toward me.
“I was wrong to let you believe it.”
I shook my head.
“My mother died when I was a child.”
“She disappeared.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“No.”
His voice was low.
“It isn't.”
The car moved through the city.
Rain began striking the windows.
I watched the lights blur.
“Where is she?”
My father remained silent.
“Dad.”
“I don't know.”
My heart sank.
“You don't know?”
“I spent twenty-two years searching.”
“Then why tell me now?”
“Because the people who took her have returned.”
I stared at him.
“Kyle?”
“No.”
“Thalia?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
My father looked at me.
“The person behind them.”
We arrived at Calder Tower.
The entire top floor had been cleared.
Security guards lined the hallway.
My father entered his private office and locked the door.
He opened a hidden compartment behind his desk.
Inside was a photograph.
A young woman stood beside him.
Long dark hair.
Soft eyes.
My mother.
I touched the photograph.
“She looks happy.”
“She was.”
“What happened?”
My father sat down.
“She discovered someone inside the company was stealing money.”
“Who?”
“We never found out.”
“She disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“And you thought she was dead.”
“I did.”
My father took another photograph.
This one was from a hospital.
A baby.
Me.
“Three weeks before your mother's disappearance, you were born.”
I stared.
“There were threats.”
“So you hid me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To protect you.”
My father's voice cracked.
“I changed your surname to Calder and created a false public history for you.”
“But I thought Calder was my name.”
“It became your name.”
I stared at him.
“Then who was I before?”
“Isabella Whitmore.”
I froze.
The room seemed to tilt.
“What?”
My father looked away.
“Your mother was born into the Whitmore family.”
My mouth went dry.
“Kyle's family?”
“Yes.”
I stood.
“No.”
“He doesn't know.”
“You're telling me…”
“I am telling you that Kyle Whitmore married his own bloodline without knowing the truth.”
I stepped backward.
“No.”
“Bella.”
“No.”
My father's expression broke.
“Your mother was Nathan Whitmore's younger sister.”
Nathan Whitmore.
Kyle's father.
The founder of Whitmore Holdings.
A man who died ten years earlier.
The man Kyle worshipped.
I covered my mouth.
“This can't be real.”
“It is.”
I looked at the photograph.
My mother's face suddenly seemed different.
The resemblance.
The eyes.
My eyes.
“Kyle and I…”
“You share distant family blood.”
I sat down.
For three years I had slept beside a man who was unknowingly connected to me.
My father placed another file on the desk.
“The Whitmore family believed your mother died.”
“Why?”
“Because someone wanted it that way.”
I opened the file.
There was a handwritten note.
THE GIRL MUST NEVER KNOW SHE IS A WHITMORE.
Below it was a signature.
My mother's.
My blood ran cold.
“She wrote this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
I turned the page.
A recent photograph appeared.
A woman standing outside a European train station.
Older.
But unmistakable.
My mother.
Alive.
The photograph was dated three months ago.
I looked up.
“You found her.”
My father nodded.
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“She found us.”
My phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
One message.
STOP DIGGING.
Another message appeared.
A photograph.
My mother.
Standing in front of a hotel.
And beside her stood a man.
I zoomed in.
My heart stopped.
The man was Kyle's father.
Nathan Whitmore.
Impossible.
He had supposedly been dead for ten years.
I looked at my father.
“Dad…”
He stared at the image.
His expression became something I had never seen.
Fear.
“No.”
“What?”
He grabbed the phone.
His fingers tightened.
“He's alive.”
“Who?”
My father looked at me.
“Nathan Whitmore.”
The lights suddenly went out.
Every screen in the office turned black.
Then the main monitor flickered.
A video appeared.
An older man sat in a dark room.
Gray hair.
Sharp eyes.
Nathan Whitmore.
He leaned toward the camera.
“Victor.”
My father stood.
Nathan smiled.
“Did you really think I was dead?”
Then his gaze shifted.
Directly toward me.
“And Isabella…”
His smile widened.
“You have no idea who your mother really was.”
The video ended.
The lights returned.
My father was already reaching for his phone.
“Security.”
“What happened?”
May you like
He looked at me.
“Nathan just declared war.”
