Return of the billionaire heiress

Chapter Two

The Wellington estate was quiet, yet the silence felt like an unbearable weight that pressed down on the house. In the heart of the mansion, Eleanor Wellington sat by the large window, staring out at the sprawling gardens that stretched far beyond the horizon. The sunlight, which once brought her comfort, now felt like a cruel reminder of everything she had lost.

She clutched a photograph in her trembling hands—a worn picture of a little girl with bright eyes and soft curls. Anita. Her daughter, lost to her twenty years ago, was taken by an accident that had shattered their lives and robbed her of the one person she had never stopped longing for.

Eleanor's eyes filled with tears that she didn’t bother to wipe away. Anita’s birthday was in just a few days, but instead of preparing for a celebration, she was drowning in the grief that resurfaced every year around this time. Another year without her. Another birthday that would pass with the hope that somehow, Anita was still out there, alive, waiting to be found.

The soft creak of the door brought her back from the depths of her thoughts. She turned her head slightly, and in the dim light of the room, Abigail stepped in quietly, her expression tender as she approached her mother.

"Mom," Abigail whispered, her voice filled with concern. She moved across the room and gently wrapped her arm around her mother’s shoulders. "You shouldn’t be alone right now."

Eleanor tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "I can’t help it, darling. Every year… every year I think she’ll walk through that door. That I’ll finally get her back."

Abigail’s heart twisted in her chest as she sat down beside her mother, resting her head on Eleanor’s shoulder. "I know, Mom. I miss her too. We all do." She squeezed her mother’s hand gently. "But we can’t lose hope. We’ve never stopped looking for her. You know that."

Eleanor let out a shaky breath, her eyes scanning the photograph in her hand once more. "Your father... he would have known what to do. He always knew. And now, it’s been so long. What if she’s… what if she’s gone, Abigail? What if we never find her?"

"Mom, don’t say that." Abigail’s voice was firm, though laced with her own sorrow. "We will find her. I don’t care how long it takes or what we have to do. Me, Asher, and Azaiah—we’ll find Anita. We’ll bring her home, I promise."

Eleanor’s lip trembled as she turned to look at Abigail. There was something about her daughter’s strength that reminded her so much of her husband, the way Abigail had stepped up when the world fell apart. "You’ve all done so much already. I’m so proud of you and your brothers. I just… I worry. What if the worst has already happened, and we’re searching for a ghost?"

Abigail’s grip on her mother tightened. "Don’t think like that. Anita’s out there, somewhere. She has to be." There was a determination in her voice that made Eleanor pause. "I’ve already asked the investigators to revisit the case. There might be something we missed all those years ago. New leads, new people to talk to. We’re going to do everything we can, okay?"

Eleanor nodded, though the tears continued to roll down her cheeks. "I don’t know what I’d do without you, Abigail," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You’ve been my rock through all of this."

"And I always will be," Abigail said softly, her own eyes shining with unshed tears. "I’m not giving up on her, Mom. I can’t. Not after all these years."

A heavy silence fell between them, both women lost in their own thoughts, in their shared grief. The weight of twenty years without answers, without closure, pressed down on them both. But beneath it all, there was still that flicker of hope, fragile but unyielding.

Eleanor lifted the photo once more, brushing her thumb over the face of her long-lost daughter. "She would be twenty-three now," she murmured, almost to herself. "I wonder what she looks like. What kind of woman she’s grown into."

Abigail swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions in check. "We’ll find out soon enough," she said quietly. "And when we do, we’ll make up for all the lost time. I’ll make sure of it."

Eleanor turned to her daughter, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered. "For never giving up on her… on us."

Abigail gave a soft smile, though the weight of the promise she had just made lingered heavily on her shoulders. "We’re family," she said simply. "We don’t give up on each other."

As they sat there, the sun slowly dipped beyond the horizon, casting long shadows over the room. The search for Anita had spanned two decades, but in their hearts, the hope that she was still out there remained as strong as ever. The years had been long and filled with heartbreak, but there was still time to find her.

“Mrs wellington?” Emma called behind them seeing the mother, daughter engrossed in each other.

“What the hell do you want this time, dummy? Haven't I told you never to interrupt when I'm busy?” Eleanor lashed at her angrily as she looked behind her knowing fully well it was Emma.

“Mom!” Abigail called her mom, giving her a squeeze in her palm like she was trying to tell her not to speak to the maid like that.

“I'm sorry, Mrs wellington.” Emma said gently bowing her head down.

“Well… What do you want this time?” She said with her arms crossed.

“I only came to tell you dinner is served.” Emma replied, her chest tightening with anxiety with the familiar sense of helplessness that always came when she's caught in Eleanor's crosshairs.

“Took you long enough.” Eleanor smirked coldly.

“Thank you, Emma.” Abigail smiles softly at her, trying to console her for her mother's harsh words. She has always been kind to her, she didn't know why but she's always been attached to her.