CHAPTER 10 The Woman in the Photograph
CHAPTER 10
The Woman in the Photograph
Sleep never came.
Daniel Ross's murder replayed in my mind over and over again.
The missing ledger.
The note.
The single handwritten initial.
M.
By sunrise, Ethan and I were sitting in his office, surrounded by boxes of financial records.
Neither of us had spoken much.
Finally, he broke the silence.
"I don't believe your mother ordered a murder."
I looked up.
"You don't?"
"No."
"Then why is Daniel dead?"
"Because someone wanted you to believe she did."
He slid the life insurance policy back toward me.
"I think someone has been using Margaret Whitmore."
Before I could answer, Evelyn burst into the office.
"You need to see this."
She handed me an old personnel file.
It belonged to a retired employee named Helen Brooks.
She had worked for Whitmore Coastal Development for almost thirty years.
One line caught my attention.
Former Executive Assistant to Richard Whitmore.
"She called this morning," Evelyn said.
"She said she has something that belongs to you."
Helen lived alone in a quiet neighborhood outside Malibu.
She answered the door before we even knocked.
"I knew you'd come eventually," she said softly.
She looked at me for several seconds.
Then tears filled her eyes.
"You have your mother's smile."
I froze.
"My... mother?"
Helen nodded.
"Your biological mother."
She disappeared into another room and returned carrying a small wooden box.
"I promised her I would keep this safe."
Inside were photographs.
A silver necklace.
Several letters tied together with a faded blue ribbon.
And one picture that stole my breath.
A young woman holding a baby.
The woman looked almost exactly like me.
Same eyes.
Same smile.
Same dimple.
On the back of the photograph were six handwritten words.
For Natalie. Never stop smiling.
My vision blurred.
"I thought she abandoned me."
Helen shook her head.
"No."
"She fought to keep you."
She slowly began telling the story.
Twenty-nine years earlier, my biological mother, Grace Bennett, had been diagnosed with an aggressive heart condition shortly after giving birth.
Doctors warned she wouldn't survive without immediate treatment.
She had no family.
No money.
No one willing to care for an infant.
Richard Whitmore had been Grace's closest friend growing up.
He promised he would raise me until she recovered.
But Grace never came home.
She died eight months later.
Tears rolled silently down Helen's face.
"She never abandoned you."
"She died believing your father would tell you the truth."
I looked at my father differently for the first time.
Maybe...
he hadn't stolen me.
Maybe...
he had simply been too weak to keep a promise.
But one question remained.
"If that's true..."
I whispered.
"...who is Lucas Bennett?"
Helen's expression suddenly changed.
"You don't know?"
She slowly sat down.
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"Oh, Natalie..."
"Lucas is your uncle."
