CHAPTER 7 — THE CHILD MY MOTHER HID
I didn't follow Julian.
Not immediately.
I stood in the hidden room, staring at the photograph.
My mother.
Outside a hospital.
Seventeen years ago.
And beneath it:
SHE HAD A CHILD.
My mind raced.
I was twelve when my mother supposedly died.
Seventeen years ago.
The timeline was impossible.
Unless the child had been born before she disappeared.
Unless—
I stopped myself.
There were too many possibilities.
Too many lies.
My father approached slowly.
"Elena."
"Tell me the truth."
He didn't answer.
"Did Mom have another child?"
His face changed.
That was enough.
I whispered:
"She did."
He closed his eyes.
"Yes."
The room seemed to tilt.
"Who?"
"Your brother."
I stared at him.
"I have a brother?"
He nodded.
"His name is Noah."
"Where is he?"
"I don't know."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Yes."
"After everything?"
He looked devastated.
"I lost both of you."
I shook my head.
"You never told me."
"Your mother asked me not to."
"Why?"
"Because Noah was the key."
"The key to what?"
My father looked toward the door.
"Project Orchid."
I felt anger rising.
"Everything comes back to that."
"Because everything started there."
He sat down.
"Your mother discovered that the Vale family wasn't trying to steal the Hart fortune."
I frowned.
"They were trying to find Noah."
"Why?"
"Because Noah wasn't simply your brother."
"What does that mean?"
My father looked at me.
"He was the legal heir."
I stared.
"To the company?"
"Yes."
"But Mom was the heir."
"She was."
"Then why Noah?"
"Because your grandfather changed the trust before his death."
I felt cold.
"The trust was transferred to the first male descendant."
I shook my head.
"That's insane."
"It was the old family agreement."
"And nobody told me?"
"Your mother didn't want you involved."
"So she took Noah and disappeared."
"Yes."
"Where?"
My father shook his head.
"I don't know."
A voice came from behind us.
"I do."
We turned.
Victor stood in the doorway.
I stared at him.
"You know where my brother is?"
Victor nodded.
"He's alive."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"Where?"
"Boston."
I took a step forward.
"Take me to him."
Victor didn't move.
"It's not that simple."
"Why?"
"Because Noah doesn't know who he is."
I stared.
"What?"
"Your mother changed his identity."
"Why?"
"To keep him alive."
My father looked at Victor.
"How did you find him?"
Victor's expression darkened.
"I didn't."
"Then who did?"
Victor looked at me.
"Julian."
I froze.
"Julian found him?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Because he inherited his father's files."
I suddenly understood.
Julian hadn't married me by accident.
He had spent years searching for the Hart heirs.
Me.
Noah.
The trust.
The company.
Everything.
I felt sick.
"Why did he wait five years?"
Victor answered.
"Because he needed you to reveal where your father had hidden the controlling assets."
My father's face tightened.
"And when Elena refused?"
Victor looked at me.
"He became desperate."
I remembered the lashes.
Selene.
The humiliation.
The threats.
He had not simply wanted me gone.
He had wanted me broken enough to reveal the location of the trust.
I looked at my father.
"Did Julian know about the trust?"
"Yes."
"Did he know who I was?"
"Yes."
"Did he know about Noah?"
My father hesitated.
"Yes."
My hands clenched.
Everything had been a lie.
Every dinner.
Every anniversary.
Every kiss.
Every promise.
I suddenly remembered something Julian had said during our first year of marriage.
One sentence I had never understood.
"If you ever find out what your family left behind, Elena, you'll hate me."
I had thought he was joking.
He hadn't been.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Julian's voice.
"You're angry."
"Where is my brother?"
"Alive."
"Where?"
"Boston."
"Give me the address."
"No."
"Then why tell me?"
"Because you need me."
"I don't."
"You will."
His voice became quieter.
"Your father is hiding something."
"What?"
"Ask him about the hospital."
My father looked at me.
I covered the phone.
"What hospital?"
He didn't answer.
Julian continued.
"The hospital where your mother gave birth."
I asked:
"Where?"
"St. Vincent's."
"Boston?"
"Yes."
"Why should I trust you?"
"You shouldn't."
The call ended.
I looked at my father.
"What happened at St. Vincent's?"
He finally spoke.
"Your mother gave birth to Noah there."
"When?"
"Seventeen years ago."
"And then?"
"She disappeared."
"Why?"
"Because someone tried to kill Noah."
"Who?"
He looked at Victor.
Victor answered.
"Richard Cole."
I felt a chill.
"Richard tried to kill my brother?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because Noah's existence threatened everything."
I remembered Richard's face.
His smile.
His calm voice.
The gun.
He had been waiting for us.
Not because of Julian.
Because of Noah.
My father stood.
"We're going to Boston."
Victor shook his head.
"No."
My father looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because the people watching Noah already know."
I stared.
"How?"
Victor took out his phone.
A photograph appeared.
Noah.
A young man standing outside a coffee shop.
Dark hair.
Twenty years old.
My brother.
Alive.
My eyes filled with tears.
I touched the screen.
"He looks like Mom."
Victor nodded.
"Yes."
"Does he know about me?"
"No."
"Does he know about Mom?"
"No."
"Then who is taking care of him?"
Victor's expression changed.
"Someone your mother trusted."
"Who?"
He hesitated.
Then answered:
"Selene."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"Selene found Noah six months ago."
My father stepped forward.
"That's impossible."
Victor shook his head.
"She wasn't working alone."
I felt a chill.
"Who was she working with?"
Victor looked at me.
"Julian."
Everything went silent.
I suddenly understood why Selene had been so confident.
Why she had never feared losing Julian.
Why she had known details about my family that she shouldn't have known.
She hadn't been simply his mistress.
She had been part of the operation.
My father looked furious.
"Where is she now?"
Victor checked his phone.
"At the Boston airport."
My blood ran cold.
"With Noah?"
"No."
He paused.
"She's going to kill him."
I stood immediately.
"We're leaving."
My father grabbed his coat.
Victor followed.
But before we reached the door, my phone vibrated again.
A message.
From Selene.
I looked at it.
There was a photograph.
Noah tied to a chair.
His eyes covered.
And beneath the image:
BRING THE TRUST.
I showed my father.
His expression became murderous.
Victor whispered:
"It's a trap."
I nodded.
"I know."
"Then why go?"
I looked at the photograph.
Because that young man was my brother.
My mother's son.
My family.
And for the first time in my life, I wasn't going to let someone else decide who deserved to be saved.
I grabbed my coat.
"We're going."
My father looked at me.
"Elena."
I met his eyes.
"You spent twenty-three years protecting me."
I held up the photograph.
"Now let me protect him."
We walked out into the rain.
None of us noticed the black SUV parked across the street.
Inside, a man lowered binoculars.
Then he called someone.
"They're going to Boston."
A pause.
"Should we stop them?"
The man smiled.
"No."
He looked toward the house.
"Let them go."
"Why?"
"Because Noah isn't the real target."
May you like
He smiled.
"Elena is."
