Chapter 17 - WHY ELEANOR HIT ME
I agreed to listen from another room.
Sloane never saw me.
Investigators recorded everything.
His voice came through a speaker.
“The plan was humiliation.”
Ruiz asked,
“Explain.”
“Eleanor would provoke Emily.”
“For what purpose?”
“To trigger an outburst.”
“Violence?”
“Preferably.”
“And if Emily did not become violent?”
“Charles would restrain her.”
My stomach tightened.
“Then Madison would claim Emily attacked her.”
“What role did Travis Cole play?”
“Credible third-party witness.”
“Was he involved?”
“No.”
That mattered.
“He was manipulated into being there.”
Ruiz continued.
“What about the wrench?”
Sloane laughed softly.
“That was Eleanor.”
“Not you?”
“No.”
“Not Marcus?”
“No.”
“Why did she use it?”
A long pause.
“Because Emily mentioned Bali.”
I stared at the speaker.
Ruiz sounded confused.
“Explain.”
“Eleanor hated Alexandra.”
My heart dropped.
“She spent twenty-nine years pretending she didn’t.”
Sloane continued.
“Alexandra traveled constantly before Emilia was born.”
“How is that relevant?”
“Emily sounded like her.”
I closed my eyes.
At dinner, I had criticized Madison’s Bali photographs.
Then defended my work.
Because it mattered.
Eleanor had looked at me—
And maybe for one second she didn’t see Emily.
She saw Alexandra.
The woman she had once admired.
Then envied.
Then betrayed.
Sloane’s voice became colder.
“Eleanor saved the child because she loved Alexandra.”
A pause.
“Then she learned Alexandra survived.”
My breath caught.
“When?”
“2003.”
I opened my eyes.
Eleanor knew.
For twenty-three years, she knew my mother was alive.
Ruiz asked the question for me.
“Why didn’t she reunite them?”
“Because by then she was receiving money.”
Sloane laughed.
“And because she was afraid Emilia would love her real mother more.”
The room blurred.
That was the ugliest truth yet.
Not billions.
Not trusts.
Not corporate control.
Jealousy.
Eleanor had kept a mother and daughter separated because she wanted ownership over a child she resented.
The wrench wasn’t business.
It was personal.
I visited Eleanor one final time.
“Did you know Alexandra was alive?”
She stared at me.
That was enough.
“2003?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Losing you.”
I laughed.
“You already hated me.”
“No.”
“You called me ungrateful.”
“I was afraid.”
“You mocked my career.”
“You sounded like her.”
There it was.
“Alexandra.”
Eleanor nodded.
“She always had to save everyone.”
“And you hated her for it.”
“She made me feel small.”
I looked through the glass.
“No.”
My voice remained calm.
“She didn’t make you small.”
Eleanor stopped crying.
“You chose small things.”
Money.
Control.
Jealousy.
Cruelty.
I stood.
“You had one chance to be the woman who saved me.”
Her face collapsed.
“And you spent the rest of your life trying to make me forget she ever existed.”
As I turned to leave, Eleanor called my name.
“Emily.”
I stopped.
“Not Emilia?”
She shook her head.
“You were always Emily to me.”
For once, I understood something clearly.
Emily was not the fake name.
May you like
Emily was the person I had become despite them.
I walked away without answering.
