Chapter 6: The Woman Who Gave Me Away
I gripped the telephone.
“Who are you?””
The woman on the other end sighed.
“You really don't recognize my voice?””
“No.””
“Your father used to say you had his eyes and my temper.””
My stomach tightened.
“Evelyn Cross?””
A quiet laugh.
“Good. At least you've learned to read.””
Marcus stood motionless beside the filing cabinet.
I pressed the speaker button.
“Why are you calling me?””
“Because your aunt has the envelope, and your mother has the recording, and neither of them intends to let you see either one.””
“Which mother?””
The woman went silent.
Then she said, “The one who gave birth to you.””
My throat felt dry.
“Are you saying Catherine Vance isn't my biological mother?””
“I'm saying Catherine Vance was the woman who raised you. She loved you in her own way. But love and motherhood aren't always the same thing.””
I looked at the altered birth certificate.
“Why did you give me away?””
“Because I was twenty-one, frightened, and being threatened by a man who believed he owned every person who entered his life.””
“My father?””
“Yes.””
I struggled to reconcile the answer with the man I remembered.
My father had been demanding, private, and occasionally ruthless in business. But I had never imagined him capable of threatening a young woman into surrendering her child.
“What did he threaten you with?””
“My brother.””
“Who was your brother?””
“Richard Mercer.””
The room seemed to shrink around me.
Chad's father.
The man who now controlled the family trust.
The man whose son had stolen millions from my company.
I leaned forward.
“You're telling me Chad Mercer is my cousin?””
“Half-cousin,” Evelyn replied.
“Richard was my older brother. We had different mothers.””
I closed my eyes.
For months, I had believed Chad's involvement in my life began when he joined Vance Meridian. Now I was learning that our families had been connected long before either of us had been born.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because your father made sure I couldn't.””
“You could have found me after he died.””
“I tried.””
“When?””
“Six years ago. After the funeral.””
I remembered that summer.
I had been twenty-seven, overwhelmed by grief and suddenly responsible for a multinational company. People had arrived at the estate with contracts, condolences, and advice. My aunt Victoria had handled most of the arrangements.
“You never contacted me.””
“I sent three letters to the estate. Victoria intercepted every one.””
Marcus turned sharply.
“That can't be true.””
Evelyn laughed without humor.
“Ask her.””
“Why would my aunt hide the letters?””
“Because she was protecting the family.””
“From what?””
“From the truth.””
I rubbed my forehead.
“This is ridiculous. Everyone keeps telling me the truth is just one more secret away.””
“That's because your family has spent decades building secrets into the foundation of everything you own.””
“Then give me something real.””
A pause followed.
When Evelyn spoke again, her voice had changed.
“Your father didn't die six years ago, Ethan. He disappeared because he discovered that Catherine had been using the family trust to fund a private operation. He believed she intended to take control of the company and eliminate anyone who could expose her.””
“Why would Catherine do that?””
“Because she wasn't the woman you thought she was.””
I looked at Marcus.
He seemed to be listening to something I couldn't hear.
“Evelyn,” I said, “what exactly happened the night my father disappeared?””
“He called me from his office. He said he had evidence that Catherine and Richard were moving money through a network of companies. He wanted me to meet him at a private airfield outside Boston.””
“And you went?””
“Yes.””
“What happened?””
“I arrived twenty minutes late. His car was burning beside the runway. There was blood on the pavement, but no body.””
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Why didn't you tell the police?””
“Because the police were already there.””
“That doesn't make sense.””
“They weren't investigating. They were waiting.””
I stared at the floor.
“Waiting for what?””
“For someone to tell them what to write in the report.””
I felt sick.
Evelyn continued.
“Your father had enemies in places you couldn't imagine. He also had friends who were willing to help him disappear. When I found out he was alive, I swore I would keep his location secret until I knew who was responsible for the attack.””
“And now?””
“Now he believes you deserve to know the truth.””
“Where is he?””
“Somewhere safe.””
“That's not an answer.””
“It's the only one I can give you over this line.””
I took a slow breath.
“Then tell me something you can prove.””
She paused.
“Look inside the bottom drawer of your father's desk.””
I glanced at the locked filing cabinet.
“I already did.””
“Not the filing cabinet. The desk.””
I wheeled closer.
The desk had three drawers. I had searched the first two, finding only old correspondence and office supplies.
The bottom drawer was locked.
I tried the brass key.
It didn't fit.
“There's another key,” Evelyn said.
“Where?””
“Beneath the photograph of your father and you at the beach.””
I lifted the frame.
A small silver key had been taped to the back.
My hands trembled as I unlocked the drawer.
Inside lay a black notebook, a sealed envelope, and a small digital recorder.
I opened the notebook.
The first page contained a list of names, dates, and payments.
Richard Mercer.
Victoria Vance.
Chad Mercer.
Catherine Hayes.
Beside each name were amounts transferred through shell companies over a period of eleven years.
The final entry was dated two days before my accident.
*E.V. — $2,000,000 — Final authorization pending.*
I stared at the initials.
“Evelyn Vance?”” I asked.
“No,” Evelyn said quietly.
“Those initials refer to you.””
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“That's impossible.””
“Your private authentication token was used to authorize the transfer. The money was meant to be routed through an account connected to the trust.””
“But I never approved it.””
“I know.””
“Then who did?””
She took a breath.
“Someone had been preparing your signature for years. Someone who knew your habits, your passwords, your handwriting, and the way you approved documents without reading every attachment.””
My mind went immediately to Victoria.
She had managed my personal affairs after my father disappeared. She had access to my correspondence, my schedule, and many of my private records.
But I had no proof.
I looked at the recorder.
“What is this?””
“Your father's final message to you.””
I pressed the play button.
Static crackled through the speaker.
Then my father's voice filled the archive.
“If you're hearing this, Ethan, then I have failed to protect you from the people closest to us.””
I froze.
The voice was unmistakable.
Older than I remembered, perhaps, but undeniably his.
He continued.
“I need you to understand that the company was never the thing I was trying to save. The money was never the thing I was trying to protect.””
A pause.
“I was trying to protect you from the truth about your birth.””
I gripped the edge of the desk.
“Your biological mother was Evelyn Cross. I took you from her when you were six months old because Richard Mercer had threatened to use you against her. I believed I could protect you by giving you a different name, a different history, and a family that could keep you safe.””
My eyes burned.
“Catherine agreed to raise you as her own. She loved you. But over time, she began to resent the sacrifice she had made. She wanted the company, the money, and the life she believed should have been hers.””
The recording crackled.
“By the time I realized how far she had gone, she had already begun working with Richard.””
I looked at Marcus.
He was crying silently.
My father's voice continued.
“If Catherine ever returns, do not trust her promises. If Victoria offers to help, ask her what happened to the original trust documents. And if Chad Mercer tells you that he is seeking revenge for his father, remember that revenge is often just greed wearing the clothes of justice.””
The recording stopped.
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Then the telephone crackled.
Evelyn's voice returned.
“Ethan?””
I swallowed.
“I'm here.””
“There's one more thing.””
I stared at the notebook.
“What?””
“The woman who raised you wasn't the only person who knew you weren't her biological child.””
I closed my eyes.
“Who else knew?””
“Your father. Victoria. Richard Mercer. And Chad.””
I felt a cold pressure behind my ribs.
“Chad knew?””
“Yes.””
“Then why did he work for me?””
“Because he believed that if he stayed close enough to you, he could eventually take control of the inheritance your father had hidden.””
I thought of the way Chad had laughed at me in the ballroom.
The way he had spoken about my injuries.
The way he had looked at the photograph of my father.
He hadn't simply wanted my position.
He had wanted something that had been promised to him before I was even old enough to speak.
“Evelyn,” I said, “where can I meet you?””
“Tomorrow morning. Seven o'clock. The old railway station on Mercer Street.””
“Why there?””
“Because your father used to take you there when you were little. You won't remember it, but I will.””
I hesitated.
“Can I trust you?””
The question hung between us.
When she answered, her voice was barely audible.
“No. Not yet.””
Her honesty startled me.
“But you can meet me,” she continued.
“And you can decide whether I deserve a place in your life.””
The line went dead.
I sat in silence, surrounded by records of a life I had never known.
Marcus approached the desk.
“Ethan, I'm sorry.””
I looked at him.
“For what?””
“For not telling you sooner.””
“You didn't know everything.””
“I knew enough to ask more questions.””
I looked at the photograph of my father.
Then at the birth certificate.
“Do you think he really did all of this to protect me?””
Marcus considered the question.
“I think he believed he was protecting you.””
“That isn't the same thing.””
“No,” he said.
“It isn't.””
I placed the documents inside the black notebook.
Then I heard footsteps outside the archive.
A key turned in the lock.
Marcus went pale.
“That's impossible,” he whispered.
“Nobody knows this room exists.””
The door opened.
Victoria Vance stood in the doorway wearing a cream-colored coat and the same pearl earrings she had worn at my father's funeral.
She looked at the notebook in my hands.
Then she looked at me.
“Oh, Ethan,” she said softly.
“I was hoping you wouldn't find that.””
I wheeled toward her.
“You intercepted Evelyn's letters.””
Victoria closed the door behind her.
“Yes.””
“You helped forge my signature.””
“No.””
“Then explain the trust.””
She sighed and placed her handbag on the desk.
“You're asking the wrong questions.””
“Then give me the right ones.””
She looked at Marcus.
“You should have stayed dead, Marcus.””
He stepped back.
Victoria reached into her handbag and removed a photograph.
It showed a young woman holding a baby outside a hospital.
The woman was Evelyn.
The baby was me.
On the back, written in my father's handwriting, were six words.
The child is not Ethan Vance.
Victoria placed the photograph beside the birth certificate.
“Your father made a mistake when he took you,” she said.
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?””
She leaned closer.
“It means the boy who inherited Vance Meridian wasn't the child Catherine agreed to raise.””
May you like
Her eyes filled with tears.
“And the real Ethan Vance has been missing for twenty-nine years.””
