Chapter 7 - The Secret Alexander’s Mother Kept
Alexander’s mother lived forty minutes away.
He made the drive in twenty-eight.
Eleanor Reed was waiting at the front door before his car stopped.
She had already seen the wedding videos online.
By morning, clips of Lily standing in the aisle had been viewed millions of times.
News vans sat outside the estate gates.
Headlines screamed about secret children and billionaire scandals.
Alexander ignored all of it.
His mother opened her arms.
He didn’t step into them.
“Did you know?”
Eleanor’s hands fell.
Her expression changed.
That was enough.
Alexander felt something inside him crack.
“You knew.”
“Alexander—”
“How long?”
“Come inside.”
“How long?”
His voice echoed across the stone entryway.
Eleanor looked older suddenly.
“Five years.”
Alexander stepped backward.
Daniel arrived behind him.
He heard the answer.
His face changed too.
“Mom?”
Eleanor closed the door.
“We need to sit down.”
“No.”
Alexander stared at her.
“My daughter asked me yesterday why I wasn’t there.”
Eleanor’s eyes filled.
“She’s beautiful.”
“Don’t.”
His voice sharpened.
“You don’t get to say that yet.”
Eleanor flinched.
Alexander hated hurting her.
But Rachel was dead.
Lily had grown up believing he abandoned her.
And his own mother had known.
“Dad knew?”
“Yes.”
“Who told him?”
“Rachel.”
“When?”
“Lily was fourteen months old.”
Alexander laughed bitterly.
“Fourteen months.”
He began pacing.
“And he didn’t call me?”
“He wanted proof.”
“He could have asked me.”
“He was still recovering.”
“He could speak.”
“Alexander—”
“He could pick up a phone.”
Eleanor wiped her eyes.
“He was ashamed.”
Alexander stopped.
“Of Lily?”
“No.”
“Of Rachel?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Eleanor looked toward Daniel.
“Of himself.”
The room quieted.
Eleanor sat.
“Your father knew Camille had been controlling access to you during his illness.”
Alexander frowned.
“What?”
“She screened calls.”
“That was her job.”
“Not personal calls.”
His jaw tightened.
“Dad noticed things disappearing.”
“When?”
“After the stroke.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“He wasn’t certain.”
Eleanor continued.
“Then Rachel contacted him.”
Alexander sat slowly.
“What did she say?”
“That she believed Camille had forged something.”
“The letter.”
“Yes.”
“Did Dad believe her?”
“Not immediately.”
Alexander gave a bitter laugh.
“Of course not.”
“He hired an investigator.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Dad investigated Camille?”
“For months.”
Neither brother had known.
Eleanor continued.
“He found the fake email account.”
Alexander’s hands tightened.
“He found payments.”
“To Marcus?”
“The first ones.”
“Then why did Camille stay employed?”
“Your father was going to confront her.”
“When?”
Eleanor looked down.
“The night of his second stroke.”
Silence.
Alexander remembered that night.
His father had collapsed in his study.
Camille had found him.
Camille had called the ambulance.
Camille had ridden to the hospital.
Edmund never fully recovered.
He died ten months later.
Alexander’s skin went cold.
“Where were the investigation files?”
“Gone.”
“Gone?”
“Your father kept them in his study.”
Eleanor’s voice trembled.
“After the stroke, the folder disappeared.”
Daniel stared at her.
“You suspected Camille?”
“I suspected everyone.”
“You let her stay near Alexander?”
“She became more important to the company after Edmund got sick.”
Alexander looked sickened.
“You let me date her.”
“I begged you not to.”
He remembered.
Eleanor had never liked Camille.
Alexander assumed it was class snobbery in reverse.
Camille’s family was new money.
The Reeds were old Boston wealth.
He had dismissed his mother’s objections as prejudice.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Lily?”
Eleanor started crying.
“Your father asked me not to.”
Alexander stared.
“Why?”
“He wanted to protect Rachel until he had proof.”
“He died.”
“I know.”
“Then why not tell me after?”
“Because Camille came to me.”
The room went still.
“What did she say?”
“She knew Edmund had contacted Rachel.”
Alexander’s jaw tightened.
“She showed me photographs of Marcus.”
“What kind?”
“Guns.”
“Threats?”
“She said Marcus was dangerous.”
“He was.”
“Yes.”
Eleanor’s hands shook.
“She convinced me that if you learned about Lily, you would go after Rachel immediately.”
“I would have.”
“And Marcus would hurt them.”
Alexander looked away.
“She said Rachel wanted time.”
“Did you speak to Rachel?”
“No.”
“Then you trusted Camille?”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“That is the thing I will regret until I die.”
Alexander stood at the window.
For five years his mother had carried the truth.
He wanted to rage at her.
But unlike Camille, Eleanor looked destroyed by what she had done.
Still, regret didn’t restore childhoods.
“What trust did Dad create?”
Eleanor looked surprised.
“How do you know?”
“Megan.”
She nodded slowly.
“Edmund amended the family trust.”
“Without telling me?”
“He had authority then.”
“How many shares?”
“Eleven percent.”
Daniel whistled softly.
Reed Holdings was worth billions.
Eleven percent represented extraordinary wealth.
More importantly, it represented voting power.
“To Lily?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Guilt.”
Eleanor looked at Alexander.
“And because she was his first grandchild.”
Alexander absorbed it.
“Where are those shares?”
“Held in trust until paternity is confirmed.”
“It was.”
Eleanor’s eyes filled.
“Then Lily is one of the largest shareholders in Reed Holdings.”
Alexander almost laughed.
His six-year-old daughter had arrived in a wrinkled dress carrying a baby.
She owned hundreds of millions of dollars.
And she had been hungry.
The contrast sickened him.
“Did Camille know?”
“I think so.”
“Think?”
“Edmund told his attorney.”
“Who?”
“Charles Wentworth.”
Alexander knew the name.
Family counsel for thirty years.
Retired.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Connecticut.”
Alexander turned toward Daniel.
“Call him.”
Daniel already had his phone out.
Alexander looked back at his mother.
“Megan told me to ask you about Hope.”
Eleanor’s face changed.
Tiny.
But unmistakable.
Alexander felt dread.
“You know something.”
Eleanor looked toward the staircase.
“Not here.”
“My daughter is being hunted because of that baby.”
Eleanor lowered her voice.
“Alexander…”
“What is Hope?”
“She is a child.”
“You know what I mean.”
His mother’s eyes filled again.
“I promised Rachel.”
“She’s dead.”
The words sounded cruel.
Eleanor recoiled.
Alexander immediately regretted them.
But he didn’t take them back.
“Rachel died trying to reach me.”
He placed the safe-deposit key on the table.
“Marcus kidnapped Megan.”
“Camille may have helped kill Rachel.”
“And every person around me seems to have known pieces of my life except me.”
His voice broke.
“No more promises.”
Eleanor stared at the key.
“Rachel came here eleven months ago.”
Alexander froze.
“What?”
“She brought Hope.”
Hope was roughly eleven months old.
“When?”
“Two days after she was born.”
Alexander’s mind raced.
“Why?”
“She was terrified.”
“Of Marcus?”
“Yes.”
“What did she tell you?”
Eleanor looked toward Daniel.
Then back at Alexander.
“She said Marcus had been trying to get her pregnant.”
Alexander frowned.
“Why?”
“Control.”
His jaw tightened.
“But she didn’t trust him.”
“So?”
“She secretly started taking contraceptives.”
Alexander understood.
“If Hope wasn’t Marcus’s…”
Eleanor nodded.
“She knew.”
“Then whose is she?”
Eleanor whispered.
“That’s why Rachel came to me.”
Alexander stared.
“I still don’t understand.”
“Hope wasn’t conceived naturally.”
Silence.
Daniel lowered his phone.
“What?”
Eleanor continued.
“Years ago, Rachel and you went to a fertility clinic.”
Alexander felt the ground shift.
“No.”
Eleanor looked at him.
“You did.”
“We went for tests.”
“Yes.”
He remembered.
Rachel had suffered an ovarian cyst.
Doctors warned her fertility might later be affected.
They had been serious enough about marriage that they discussed freezing embryos.
“But we never used them.”
“No.”
Alexander’s heart began pounding.
“We created embryos.”
“Yes.”
“Two.”
Eleanor nodded.
Alexander stopped breathing.
After Rachel vanished, he assumed they had been destroyed.
He had signed forms.
Or thought he had.
He looked toward Hope.
Though Hope wasn’t there.
Suddenly he saw her in his mind.
The baby falling asleep against his chest.
The strange familiarity he had dismissed.
“No.”
Eleanor began crying.
“Rachel found out one embryo still existed.”
Alexander couldn’t speak.
“Marcus had access to her medical records.”
His mother continued.
“He arranged an implantation without understanding whose embryo it was.”
Daniel looked horrified.
“How?”
“Rachel had told him years earlier she had frozen material.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“He believed it was an unfertilized egg.”
Alexander gripped the chair.
“But it was our embryo.”
“Yes.”
The room disappeared around him.
“Are you telling me…”
His voice failed.
Eleanor nodded.
“Hope may be your daughter too.”
Alexander stared at his mother.
Lily.
Six years old.
Hope.
Eleven months.
Two daughters.
Two entire lives hidden from him.
He whispered.
“Does Camille know?”
Eleanor nodded.
“Rachel told her.”
Alexander understood everything at once.
Why Camille demanded the baby.
Why Marcus demanded the baby.
If DNA proved Hope was Alexander’s too, Marcus’s entire claim collapsed.
And Camille’s deception would become impossible to contain.
Daniel’s phone rang.
He answered.
Then put it on speaker.
An elderly man’s voice filled the room.
“Daniel?”
“Mr. Wentworth.”
“Yes.”
“This is Alexander.”
A pause.
“Alexander.”
The old attorney sounded almost relieved.
“I’ve been expecting you for five years.”
Alexander’s blood ran cold.
“Then start talking.”
Wentworth took a breath.
“Your father left instructions.”
“What instructions?”
“If Lily Morgan ever appeared…”
A pause.
“I was to give you a sealed file.”
Alexander stared at his mother.
“What’s in it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“Stay there.”
Alexander was already reaching for his coat.
But Wentworth stopped him.
“There’s another problem.”
“What?”
“Someone broke into my office last night.”
Alexander froze.
“Was the file taken?”
“No.”
He exhaled.
“Then what?”
“The intruder was looking for it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because they left everything else untouched.”
Alexander gripped the phone.
“Do you have cameras?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Wentworth hesitated.
“I recognized the person.”
Alexander waited.
“It wasn’t Camille.”
“Then who?”
The attorney’s voice lowered.
“Your father’s former private investigator.”
Alexander frowned.
“Why would he steal his own evidence?”
Wentworth answered with seven words.
May you like
“Because he’s been working for Marcus Vale.”
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