The Woman Who Knew
1282 Words
Maya couldn't take her eyes off Mrs. Wilson.
“Charles Sterling came looking for my mother?”
Mrs. Wilson nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The older woman looked uncomfortable.
“That is something you should ask Charles.”
“I can't just walk up to a billionaire and ask him why he went looking for my mother five years ago.”
“You could.”
Maya stared at her.
Mrs. Wilson gave a small shrug.
“You're braver than you think.”
Maya almost laughed.
She didn't feel brave.
She felt like someone had opened a door into a part of her life she had never known existed.
She looked down at the photograph again.
Her younger self was smiling at Alexander.
It was the smile that frightened her most.
There was no hesitation in it.
No suspicion.
No discomfort.
She looked completely comfortable beside him.
Happy.
Maya traced the edge of the photograph with her finger.
“Why didn't my mother ever tell me about him?”
Mrs. Wilson sighed.
“Maybe she was trying to protect you.”
“From Alexander?”
“I didn't say that.”
“Then from who?”
Mrs. Wilson didn't answer.
Maya waited.
The silence became unbearable.
“Mrs. Wilson.”
The woman finally looked at her.
“Your mother loved you very much.”
“I know.”
“She believed some things were better left alone.”
Maya's throat tightened.
“That's what her letter said.”
Mrs. Wilson's eyes widened.
“She left you a letter?”
“Yes.”
“What did it say?”
Maya hesitated.
Then she repeated the words.
Mrs. Wilson listened carefully.
When Maya finished, the older woman looked troubled.
“Your mother knew this day might come.”
“What day?”
“The day you started asking questions.”
Maya felt a chill.
“What else did she leave?”
“I don't know.”
“You do.”
Mrs. Wilson looked away.
“You know something.”
“I know that Clara was afraid.”
“Of Charles?”
Mrs. Wilson didn't answer.
“Of Alexander?”
Still nothing.
Maya's voice softened.
“Then what was she afraid of?”
Mrs. Wilson finally looked at her.
“Losing you.”
Maya went silent.
The answer didn't make sense.
How could learning about Alexander have anything to do with losing her?
She looked at the photograph again.
There had to be more.
“There were other photographs,” Mrs. Wilson said.
Maya looked up.
“What?”
“Your mother brought me several photographs after that night.”
“Where are they?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“I kept them somewhere safe. But after Clara died…”
She stopped.
Maya's heart sank.
“You lost them?”
“I couldn't find them.”
Maya nodded slowly.
That was another dead end.
Or perhaps not.
“Do you remember anything else about that night?”
Mrs. Wilson hesitated.
“I remember Clara was upset.”
“Because of Charles?”
“Yes.”
“Did they argue?”
“I wasn't there.”
“But you said Charles came looking for her.”
“He came into the store the next morning.”
Maya froze.
“The next morning?”
Mrs. Wilson nodded.
“He asked me if Clara had spoken to me.”
“What did you say?”
“That she hadn't.”
“Why would he ask?”
“I don't know.”
Maya knew immediately that wasn't true.
“You do know.”
Mrs. Wilson looked down.
“Charles was worried.”
“About what?”
“That Clara would tell someone what happened.”
Maya's heart began pounding.
“What happened?”
Mrs. Wilson shook her head.
“I've said enough.”
“No.”
Maya's voice came out stronger.
“You haven't.”
She picked up the photograph.
“You knew my mother. You knew about Alexander. You knew Charles came looking for her. And now you're telling me she was afraid of losing me.”
Mrs. Wilson's eyes softened.
“I promised Clara.”
“My mother is dead.”
“I know.”
“Then who are you protecting?”
Mrs. Wilson had no answer.
Maya took a slow breath.
She didn't want to pressure the woman further.
Not yet.
Instead, she slipped the photograph into her handbag.
“I need to go.”
Mrs. Wilson nodded.
At the door, Maya stopped.
“Mrs. Wilson?”
“Yes?”
“If my mother left anything else with you, please don't throw it away.”
The older woman looked at her.
“I won't.”
Maya stepped outside.
The evening air hit her face.
She stood on the pavement for several seconds.
Her mind was racing.
Charles had confronted Clara.
Clara had been upset.
Alexander had been with her that night.
And the next morning, Charles had gone looking for Clara again.
Something had happened.
Something serious enough that Clara had been afraid.
Maya reached into her handbag and pulled out the photograph.
She stared at herself beside Alexander.
A strange warmth spread through her chest.
Then, without warning, another memory surfaced.
A man's voice.
Alexander.
“Trust me.”
Maya closed her eyes.
A second image appeared.
A large staircase.
Golden lights.
Her mother's voice.
“Maya, wait.”
Then another voice.
Deeper.
Colder.
Charles.
“This relationship ends tonight.”
Maya's eyes flew open.
She nearly dropped the photograph.
She could hear the words.
She could almost see the room.
But the memory disappeared as quickly as it had come.
Maya pressed a hand against her temple.
“What is happening to me?”
Her phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Lena.
Maya answered.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?” Lena asked.
“I'm outside.”
“Outside where?”
Maya looked at the bookstore.
“I came to ask someone about my mother.”
There was a pause.
“And?”
Maya looked down at the photograph.
“I found something.”
“What?”
“Proof that I knew Alexander.”
Lena went quiet.
“What kind of proof?”
“A photograph.”
“Of you and him?”
“Yes.”
“How close were you?”
Maya stared at the image.
“Close enough that I was smiling at him like…”
She stopped.
“Like what?”
“Like I loved him.”
Silence.
Then Lena asked carefully,
“Do you think Alexander was telling the truth?”
Maya didn't answer immediately.
“I don't know.”
“But?”
Maya looked toward the busy street.
“But I think I need to hear his side.”
---
Across the city, Alexander stood beside the windows of his office.
His phone was pressed against his ear.
“She found the photograph,” he said.
The person on the other end was silent.
Alexander's expression hardened.
“I knew she would eventually.”
Another pause.
“No.”
He looked down at the city.
“Don't interfere.”
His voice became colder.
“This time, I'm handling it myself.”
He ended the call.
For five years, Alexander had waited for Maya to return.
Now she was finally searching for the truth.
But there was one thing he hadn't told her.
He hadn't been the only person waiting for her to remember.
And if Maya kept digging into August fourteenth, she would eventually uncover a conversation between Charles and Clara that had been buried for five years.
A conversation that could change everything she believed about her past.
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