Chapter 3: The Woman Who Knew I Was Alive
I read the message five times.
Then I enlarged the photograph.
The woman in the hospital bed was unmistakably Lydia.
Her hair was shorter, and her face looked thinner than I remembered, but I knew those eyes.
For sixteen years, those eyes had watched me sign contracts, negotiate mergers, and make decisions worth hundreds of millions of dollars.
Now they were looking directly into a camera.
“Mateo,” I said.
He came over.
“What's wrong?””
I showed him the photograph.
He leaned closer.
“Do you know this woman?””
“She worked for me.””
“And the other woman?””
“Vanessa. My daughter-in-law.””
He studied the picture again.
“Why would someone send this?””
“Because they want me to know Lydia is alive.””
I looked at the message.
They know about the missing signature.
That was the part I couldn't understand.
Richard had forged my signature on the power-of-attorney documents.
But someone had apparently discovered that the signature was not mine.
And that person was frightened enough to contact me anonymously.
I typed a reply.
*Who are you? How do you know I'm alive?*
The message showed as delivered.
No response came.
I tried calling the number.
It rang once.
Then disconnected.
“Could be a trap,” Mateo said.
“I know.””
“Your family may be trying to find you.””
“Then they should have thought of that before throwing me into a river.””
I placed the phone on the table.
For the first time since my rescue, I felt something stronger than fear.
Curiosity.
Someone knew the truth.
And I intended to find out who.
Margaret called twenty minutes later.
“Eleanor, I found something about Lydia.””
“What?””
“She was admitted to a private clinic outside Manaus six days ago.””
I sat upright.
“Brazil?””
“Yes. Her records show that she was brought in under a different name.””
“Is she conscious?””
“Apparently. But she's refusing visitors.””
“Why?””
“I don't know. The clinic won't release information without her consent.””
I looked at the photograph.
“Can you get me there?””
“Eleanor, you're injured.””
“I can walk.””
“That's not what I'm worried about.””
“Margaret, Lydia may know how Richard forged my documents. She may know who helped him.””
“Then I'll arrange for a trusted investigator to meet her.””
“No.””
“Eleanor—”
“I want to speak to her myself.””
There was a pause.
Finally, Margaret sighed.
“I'll arrange transportation.””
The clinic was a small private facility surrounded by high walls and tropical gardens.
A guard checked our identification before allowing us through the entrance.
Mateo accompanied me.
Margaret had arranged for a local investigator named Rafael Costa to meet us there.
He was a broad-shouldered man in his early sixties with silver hair and a habit of speaking slowly.
“Mrs. Whitmore,” he said, shaking my hand.
“I've been told you're recovering from a serious accident.””
“That's one way of describing it.””
He looked at my bandaged palms.
“Your attorney says you need to speak with a patient named Lydia Moore.””
“Yes.””
“She's in room twelve. But I need to warn you. She's frightened.””
“Of me?””
“Of someone else.””
We walked down a narrow corridor.
A nurse opened the door.
Lydia was sitting upright in bed, staring at the television.
When she heard the door open, she turned.
Her mouth fell open.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she began to cry.
“Oh, Mrs. Whitmore.””
I crossed the room.
“Lydia.””
She reached for my hand.
“I thought you were dead.””
“So did the people who pushed me into the river.””
Her fingers tightened around mine.
“I'm sorry.””
I pulled a chair beside the bed.
“Tell me what happened.””
She looked toward the door.
“Are we alone?””
“There's an investigator outside.””
She shook her head.
“Please. I need to know nobody from your family can hear us.””
I glanced at Rafael.
He nodded and closed the door.
Lydia leaned closer.
“Richard knows I found the original documents.””
“Which documents?””
“The power of attorney. The ones he made you sign.””
“I never signed a power of attorney.””
“I know. I saw what he did.””
My chest tightened.
“Explain.””
She took a breath.
“Six weeks ago, Richard asked me to prepare a folder for you. He said you needed to sign routine tax documents. I printed everything, but when I reviewed the pages, I noticed one document had been added after you signed the original packet.””
“What document?””
“An authorization giving Richard control over your voting shares if you became incapacitated.””
I felt my stomach turn.
“Did I sign it?””
“No. You signed the tax documents and left. Richard later added a page with a copied signature.””
I stared at her.
“Then why did your name appear as a witness?””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“He threatened me.””
“Richard?””
She nodded.
“He showed me photographs of my daughter leaving school. He knew where she lived, where she worked, everything. He told me that if I didn't sign the witness statement, something might happen to her.””
I sat back.
“Your daughter?””
“Emily. She's twenty-eight.””
“Where is she now?””
Lydia looked down.
“I don't know.””
The room seemed to grow smaller.
“What do you mean?””
“She disappeared three days ago.””
I stood.
“Have you contacted the police?””
“I tried. Richard has people who know people. The first officer who took my statement called him before I had even left the station.””
I felt a familiar anger rise in my chest.
Richard had always been charming with strangers.
He remembered birthdays, donated to charities, and shook hands with men who believed money was proof of character.
But I had never seen this side of him.
Not until now.
“Lydia, why are you in Brazil?””
She hesitated.
“Because I was trying to get away from him.””
“Why here?””
“Because I found out something about the company. Something Richard and Julian were hiding.””
“What?””
She looked at the door.
Then she whispered:
“Northstar isn't just buying your shares.””
I leaned closer.
“What else are they doing?””
“They've already been moving money out of Whitmore Global through a subsidiary called Meridian Logistics.””
I frowned.
“Meridian is one of our legitimate subsidiaries.””
“Not anymore.””
She explained that a new management company had been inserted into the structure months earlier.
It had been approved through a series of board resolutions that I had never seen.
The company was now charging Whitmore Global enormous consulting fees.
Millions of dollars were leaving our accounts every month.
“And who owns the management company?”” I asked.
Lydia swallowed.
“Vanessa.””
I stared at her.
“My daughter-in-law?””
She nodded.
“Her legal name is Vanessa Carter. But before she married Julian, she was Vanessa Reed.””
I frowned.
“I know her maiden name.””
“There's something else. Her mother was alive when she married Julian.””
I remembered the wedding.
Vanessa had told us her mother had died when she was twenty.
Richard had paid for the entire ceremony.
I had personally arranged a scholarship fund in her mother's memory.
“What are you saying?””
Lydia's voice trembled.
“Her mother didn't die.””
I stood so quickly that the chair scraped against the floor.
“Where is she?””
Lydia looked at me.
“She's the woman in the photograph.””
My breath caught.
“That's impossible.””
“No, Mrs. Whitmore. Her mother is the reason Vanessa married Julian.””
Rafael stepped into the room.
“Mrs. Whitmore, we need to leave.””
I turned.
“Why?””
He showed me his phone.
A black SUV had stopped outside the clinic.
Two men were getting out.
One was wearing a dark suit.
The other was holding a folder.
“Do you know them?”” Rafael asked.
I looked at the screen.
The man in the suit was familiar.
I had seen him at our estate countless times.
He was Richard's private security director.
His name was Marcus Hill.
“Get Lydia out of here,” I said.
Rafael shook his head.
“There's a service exit at the back.””
Mateo moved toward the bed.
“Can she walk?””
Lydia nodded weakly.
I helped her stand.
She clutched my arm.
“Mrs. Whitmore, there's something I haven't told you.””
“Tell me while we're moving.””
She shook her head.
“No. You need to hear this now.””
The security director entered the reception area.
I could hear his voice through the open doorway.
“I'm looking for a patient named Lydia Moore.””
The nurse answered.
“I'm sorry, sir. We can't release patient information.””
He placed something on the desk.
“Then perhaps this will help.””
Lydia's face went white.
“That's Richard's signature,” she whispered.
I looked at her.
“What?””
“He's authorized them to take me.””
My blood turned cold.
Rafael pulled the door shut.
“Back exit. Now.””
We moved through a narrow hallway and reached a service courtyard.
A small gate opened onto a side street.
Mateo helped Lydia into the passenger seat of Rafael's vehicle.
I was climbing into the back when Lydia grabbed my wrist.
“Mrs. Whitmore.””
“What?””
She looked at me with desperate eyes.
“Vanessa knows you're alive.””
I froze.
“How?””
“She saw the rescue report. Someone from the conservation team sent a message to the authorities, and she has people monitoring the investigation.””
I looked toward the clinic.
Marcus was approaching the courtyard.
“How long has she known?””
“Since yesterday.””
“Why didn't she tell Richard?””
Lydia's eyes filled with tears.
“Because she wants to meet you first.””
We drove to a small apartment Rafael owned on the outskirts of the city.
It was plain, quiet, and secure.
Lydia sat on the couch with a blanket around her shoulders.
Mateo checked the locks while Rafael made several phone calls.
I stood by the window, watching the street.
My family had been looking for me.
And now someone inside that family wanted a private meeting.
At six in the evening, my phone rang.
The number was unfamiliar.
I answered without speaking.
A woman's voice came through.
“Eleanor?””
I recognized it immediately.
Vanessa.
“Hello, Vanessa.””
There was a long silence.
Then she whispered, “You're alive.””
“Yes.””
“Oh, my God.””
I waited.
She began crying.
“Eleanor, I need you to listen to me. I didn't know what Julian was planning.””
I said nothing.
“I swear. I knew they were trying to take control of the company, but I didn't know they were going to hurt you.””
“Did you know my husband planned to forge my signature?””
Silence.
“Vanessa?””
“Yes,” she whispered.
I closed my eyes.
“Did you know?””
“I found out afterward.””
“Afterward?””
“When Richard showed me the documents.””
“And what did you do?””
She started crying harder.
“I was afraid.””
I almost laughed.
Everyone seemed to be afraid after the money was stolen, after the documents were forged, after someone had been thrown into a river.
Nobody had been afraid when there was something to gain.
“Why are you calling me?”” I asked.
“Because I can help you.””
“With what?””
“With Julian. With Richard. With everything.””
I looked toward Lydia.
She was watching me.
“Why should I trust you?””
Vanessa took a shaky breath.
“Because I know what they did to my mother.””
My stomach tightened.
“What happened to her?””
Another silence.
Then Vanessa said something that made my knees weaken.
“Richard didn't just help Julian steal your company, Eleanor. He's been using your money to pay for my mother's silence for six years.””
I gripped the window frame.
“What does that mean?””
“It means my mother knows what happened to Julian's first business partner.””
I stared into the darkness.
“His first business partner?””
Vanessa whispered:
“The man who disappeared after accusing Julian of fraud.””
I remembered the name.
Peter Lawson.
He had been Julian's closest friend.
A brilliant young accountant who had helped him launch his first technology company.
Richard had told me Peter had moved overseas after a disagreement.
I had never questioned it.
Vanessa's voice dropped even lower.
“Eleanor, Peter didn't move overseas.””
“Where is he?””
“He was found dead six years ago.””
I closed my eyes.
“How?””
“His death was ruled an accident.””
I felt the room tilt.
“Why are you telling me this now?””
“Because my mother has the original evidence.””
“What evidence?””
“A recording.””
I turned toward Lydia.
She had gone completely still.
Vanessa continued.
“It's a recording of Julian admitting what he did to Peter. And Richard was there.””
My heart began pounding.
“Where is your mother?””
Vanessa gave me an address.
Then she said one final thing.
“Eleanor, there's something else. The recording doesn't only prove Julian killed Peter.””
“What else does it prove?””
Vanessa's voice broke.
“It proves Richard has been planning to take your company since before you married him.””
The call ended.
I stood motionless.
Forty-six years.
Forty-six years of shared breakfasts, birthdays, anniversaries, hospital rooms, and promises.
I had thought Richard's betrayal began when he stood on that boat and turned away.
But apparently, the betrayal had begun long before I ever entered the river.
Then Lydia spoke from the couch.
“Mrs. Whitmore?””
I turned.
She was holding a small envelope.
“I found this in Vanessa's mother's hospital room.””
“What's inside?””
Lydia opened it with trembling fingers.
A photograph slid onto the table.
It showed a much younger Richard standing outside a courthouse.
Beside him was a woman I recognized.
My own mother.
May you like
And on the back, written in faded blue ink, were the words:
*Eleanor must never find out who her real father was.*
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