Chapter3
1229 Words
The surgery lasted four hours.
Angela sat outside the operating room until a doctor finally appeared.
“He made it.”
Angela broke.
She covered her face and cried.
For the first time in days, she could breathe.
She called Ashton.
He answered on the first ring.
“He's alive.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“The hospital contacted me.”
Angela wiped her eyes.
“Thank you.”
Silence.
Then Ashton said, “Don't thank me yet.”
She almost smiled.
“Do you ever say anything normal?”
“No.”
“That's unfortunate.”
“I've been told.”
She laughed softly.
The silence that followed felt different.
Less hostile.
More dangerous.
Then Ashton spoke.
“The wedding is in five days.”
Angela's smile vanished.
“What?”
“Five days.”
“You said I had a month.”
“I said the board meeting was at the end of the month.”
“You didn't say the wedding was five days away!”
“You didn't ask.”
Angela stared at the phone.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don't.”
She froze.
The line went silent.
Ashton cleared his throat.
“Someone will pick you up tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“My family's estate.”
“Why?”
“Because you're meeting my family.”
“Already?”
“You're marrying me.”
“Right.”
“Angela.”
“Yes?”
“Your life changes when you enter that house.”
“Why?”
This time, Ashton hesitated.
“Because my family doesn't forgive easily.”
Angela's heart tightened.
“Forgive what?”
The call ended.
***
The next afternoon, Angela arrived at the Walter estate.
The gates opened.
The mansion was enormous.
But Angela barely noticed the luxury.
She noticed the security.
There were too many guards.
Too many cameras.
Too many people watching.
A woman stood at the entrance.
Elegant.
Warm.
Beautiful.
“Angela?”
“Yes.”
“I'm Elizabeth Walter.”
Ashton's mother.
Elizabeth hugged her.
Angela stiffened.
Then slowly returned it.
“Oh, darling,” Elizabeth said. “You're even prettier than I expected.”
Angela blinked.
“Expected?”
Elizabeth froze.
Only for a second.
But Angela noticed.
“Did Ashton tell you about me?”
Elizabeth smiled.
“Of course.”
“What did he say?”
A voice came from behind them.
“Mother.”
Ashton stood at the top of the stairs.
Elizabeth smiled.
“There he is.”
Ashton walked down.
His gaze moved over Angela.
Something flickered in his eyes.
Approval.
Surprise.
Possessiveness.
Angela couldn't tell.
“You're late,” he said.
“Three minutes.”
“Fifteen.”
“The traffic—”
“Welcome to the family.”
Angela stared at him.
“That sounded almost sincere.”
“It wasn't.”
Elizabeth laughed.
Then a voice came from the hallway.
“Angela?”
She turned.
Aiden.
Again.
He was staring at her.
Angela folded her arms.
“Do you know me?”
“No.”
“Then stop looking at me like you've seen a ghost.”
Aiden's face changed.
Ashton stepped forward.
“Aiden.”
“What?”
“Leave her alone.”
Aiden's eyes remained on Angela.
“You really don't remember?”
Angela's stomach dropped.
“Remember what?”
Aiden's mouth opened.
Then closed.
Ashton grabbed his arm.
“Enough.”
Aiden looked at his brother.
“You can't keep this from her forever.”
The room went silent.
Angela looked between them.
“Keep what from me?”
Aiden pulled away.
“Ask him.”
He walked away.
Angela turned to Ashton.
“What is he talking about?”
“Nothing.”
“I'm beginning to hate that word.”
***
Dinner was worse.
Ben Walter, Ashton's father, barely spoke.
Elizabeth smiled too much.
Aiden watched Angela.
And Ashton looked as if he was waiting for something to explode.
Finally, Ben placed his glass down.
“So.”
Angela looked at him.
“How did you meet my son?”
Angela glanced at Ashton.
He gave her a warning look.
She smiled.
“Unexpectedly.”
Ben's eyes narrowed.
“Where?”
“At the hospital.”
Silence.
Ben's hand stopped moving.
Angela noticed.
Ashton noticed too.
Aiden's expression darkened.
Angela's suspicion grew.
“What?”
Ben forced a smile.
“Nothing.”
Angela leaned back.
“You all have a strange definition of nothing.”
Elizabeth quickly changed the subject.
But Angela was no longer listening.
Why did her grandfather's name affect them?
Why did Aiden recognize her?
Why did everyone become nervous when she mentioned the hospital?
After dinner, Angela escaped to the balcony.
The night air was cold.
She heard footsteps.
Aiden.
“Go away.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to ask you something.”
Angela turned.
“What?”
“Have you ever seen this woman?”
He showed her his phone.
Angela stared at the photograph.
A young woman.
Beautiful.
Dark hair.
The resemblance was undeniable.
“Who is she?”
Aiden watched her carefully.
“My aunt.”
Angela frowned.
“What's her name?”
Aiden hesitated.
“Angela.”
Angela's blood ran cold.
“What?”
“She disappeared twenty years ago.”
Angela stared at him.
“That's not funny.”
“I'm not joking.”
“Then why are you showing me her picture?”
“Because you look exactly like her.”
Angela stepped back.
“Who was she?”
Aiden's voice lowered.
“Your mother.”
Angela couldn't breathe.
Then Aiden's phone rang.
He answered.
“Hello?”
His face changed.
“What?”
Angela watched him.
“You're sure?”
A pause.
“No. That's impossible.”
He turned away.
Angela caught only fragments.
“...twenty years ago…”
“...John Caldwell…”
“...the baby…”
Aiden suddenly looked at her.
His face had gone white.
“Who died?” Angela demanded.
Aiden said nothing.
“Who?”
He ended the call.
Then whispered:
“Your mother.”
Angela's world tilted.
“She died twenty years ago?”
Aiden stared at her.
“No.”
His voice shook.
“That's the problem.”
Before Angela could ask what he meant, Ashton appeared.
“What happened?”
Aiden looked at his brother.
Then at Angela.
“Nothing.”
Angela turned on him.
“Stop saying that!”
Ashton frowned.
“Angela.”
“Aiden just showed me a picture of a woman who looks exactly like me.”
Ashton's face changed.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But Angela saw it.
“You know her.”
“No.”
“You're lying.”
Aiden looked at Ashton.
“You really didn't tell her?”
Ashton's voice dropped.
“Not here.”
Angela's heart hammered.
“Tell me what?”
Ashton stepped toward her.
Aiden interrupted.
“Ask John Caldwell.”
Angela froze.
“Ask him what?”
Aiden looked directly into her eyes.
“Why your mother was supposed to be dead.”
Then he walked away.
Angela stood frozen.
Ashton said her name.
She didn't hear him.
Because suddenly, one thought was louder than everything else.
Her mother wasn't dead.
Or at least, someone believed she wasn't.
And her grandfather had lied to her for twenty years.
- Writer
