Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Knew My Mother’s SecretI didn't tell Amy about the phone call immediately.
Not because I wanted to hide it.
Because I didn't know what to believe.
My aunt Eleanor was supposed to be dead.
At least, that was what my father had always told me.
She had left Nashville when she was young.
There had been a family argument.
Then she disappeared.
My grandmother never spoke about her.
My father never spoke about her.
And eventually, everyone stopped asking.
But now a woman claiming to be Eleanor had called me.
And she knew exactly what my mother was doing.
That afternoon, I returned to the house.
Teresa's bedroom was empty.
The police had taken her for questioning.
Mason was still being held.
The house felt strange without them.
Quiet.
Safe.
But I didn't trust that feeling anymore.
Amy was sitting in the nursery with Frederick.
He was sleeping peacefully.
His fever had dropped.
She looked exhausted.
I sat beside her.
“There is something I need to tell you.”
She looked at me.
“What?”
I told her everything.
The call.
The name.
The deed.
Her face became pale.
“Eleanor?”
“You've heard of her?”
Amy shook her head.
“No.”
Then she hesitated.
“Actually…”
“What?”
“Your mother mentioned her once.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
“About six months ago.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because it sounded crazy.”
“What did she say?”
Amy looked toward the nursery door.
“She said if anything ever happened to her…”
She stopped.
I waited.
“She said Eleanor would come back.”
I stared at her.
“What else?”
“She said your aunt knew where the money was buried.”
“What money?”
Amy shook her head.
“I don't know.”
That night, I searched my father's old records.
He had died seven years earlier.
His office had been preserved almost exactly as he left it.
I rarely entered.
It felt wrong.
But that night, I needed answers.
I opened the desk.
Nothing.
Files.
Receipts.
Old contracts.
Then I noticed a false bottom beneath one drawer.
Inside was a small envelope.
My name was written on it.
I opened it.
My father's handwriting.
Connor, if you ever find this, do not trust Teresa.
I stopped breathing.
I read the sentence again.
Then continued.
She knows about Eleanor. She knows about the deed. And she knows something about your inheritance that I never had the courage to tell you.
My hands started shaking.
There was another page.
I made a terrible mistake when I was young. Teresa helped me hide it. If she ever tries to take the house from you, find Eleanor first.
That was all.
I sat in the chair for several minutes.
My father had known.
He had warned me.
But why?
Then I heard something downstairs.
A door closing.
I froze.
I wasn't alone.
I quietly opened the office door.
The hallway was dark.
I heard footsteps.
Someone was walking toward the back entrance.
I followed.
The door opened.
A shadow stepped outside.
“Stop!”
The person ran.
I chased them through the yard.
They reached the gate.
I grabbed their jacket.
They turned.
Mason.
My cousin.
He had somehow escaped police custody.
“What are you doing here?”
He struggled.
“Let me go!”
“You broke into my house.”
“I came for something.”
“What?”
He stared at me.
“The original deed.”
“You're not getting it.”
He laughed nervously.
“You think this is about your house?”
I froze.
“What is it about?”
Mason looked over my shoulder.
Then whispered:
“Your mother isn't the one you should be afraid of.”
Before I could ask anything else…
A car accelerated down the street.
Mason pulled away and disappeared into the darkness.
I stood there.
Then I heard a voice behind me.
“Connor.”
I turned.
Amy was standing on the porch.
Beside her was an elderly woman.
Gray hair.
Dark coat.
Tired eyes.
She looked directly at me.
And I knew immediately.
She had the same eyes as my father.
The woman stepped forward.
“I am Eleanor Bradley.”
I couldn't speak.
She looked at the house.
Then at Amy.
Then toward the nursery.
“Is the baby safe?”
“Yes.”
She exhaled.
“Good.”
“Why did you disappear?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because your father asked me to.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed Teresa was going to destroy this family.”
I stared.
“My father trusted Teresa?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“He feared her.”
That answer chilled me.
Eleanor sat at the kitchen table.
She refused coffee.
She refused food.
She simply looked at the photographs on the wall.
“Your father loved you.”
“I know.”
“But he was weak.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“He knew Teresa was manipulating him.”
“Then why stay?”
“Because she had something over him.”
“What?”
Eleanor looked at me.
“The truth about your birth.”
My entire body went still.
“What truth?”
She reached into her bag.
Pulled out an old photograph.
My father.
A woman I didn't recognize.
And a baby.
Me.
On the back was a date.
The day I was born.
Eleanor whispered:
“Your father wasn't your biological father.”
The room spun.
“What?”
She placed another document on the table.
A birth certificate.
The original.
My father's name wasn't listed.
Instead, there was another man's name.
Thomas Reed.
I had never heard of him.
“Who is Thomas Reed?”
Eleanor looked at me.
“Your biological father.”
I couldn't breathe.
“What happened to him?”
“He died before you were born.”
“How?”
Eleanor looked away.
“That's what your mother told everyone.”
“What does that mean?”
She whispered:
“Because I don't believe he died naturally.”
Silence filled the room.
Then she opened another folder.
Inside was an old newspaper clipping.
The headline read:
LOCAL BUSINESSMAN FOUND DEAD DAYS BEFORE SON'S BIRTH
Thomas Reed.
My biological father.
And underneath the headline was another name.
Teresa Bradley.
My mother.
I looked at Eleanor.
“What did she do?”
Eleanor shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“But I know one thing.”
She pushed the folder toward me.
“Your mother wasn't protecting the family.”
May you like
She looked toward the nursery.
“She was protecting herself.”
