Chapter 2
1160 Words
When I got home, Mom was in the kitchen cooking.
Back when Dad first got promoted to Executive Director, there was a major project at the company. He worked overtime every day and was constantly drinking at client dinners—once, he drank so much he landed in the ICU.
They fought to save him for 24 hours straight. He pulled through, but the damage was done. He's had chronic stomach issues ever since. Mom felt terrible for him. A wealthy heiress, who'd never stepped foot in a kitchen before, started learning to cook and studying nutrition, determined to nurse his stomach back to health.
She's been cooking for him every single day—for 10 years. And today, I'd torn down the entire facade of his perfect little lie. My throat tightened. I walked up behind her. She was 40 years old but looked like she was in her late 20s—the kind of woman who'd clearly been cherished and protected her whole life. But her hands—that should have been soft and pampered—had faint calluses on the knuckles, and tiny blisters and scars across her fingertips.
All from years of learning to cook. The thought made my chest ache. I wrapped my arms around her from behind and pressed my face into the crook of her neck. Mom realized it was me, quickly set down the knife and washed her hands, then turned to hug me back with a smile. "There you are. When did you get in?" She had the housekeeper bring me a glass of juice, then led me over to the sofa.
She was practically beaming as she told me about her new recipe. "I learned this nourishing soup recipe. It's so good for you—way better than the last few I tried. It's already simmering on the stove. It'll be perfect timing when your father gets home—he'll be the first to try it…"
"He's not trying anything," I cut in, unable to hold it in any longer. I sent all the staff away, then looked straight into Mom's bewildered eyes, my voice shaking. "Mom… Dad's been cheating on you. It started when you were pregnant with me. Her name's Clara Bennett. She lives in a riverfront apartment in Emerald Bay. They have a son together. He's… he's only a few months younger than me."
Watching all the color drain from Mom's face, I felt like a giant hand was squeezing my heart. My movements stiff, I pulled the jeweled bracelet from my bag—the one I'd traced back through the vintage shop—and laid it out in front of her.
Then I pulled out the evidence my team had just dug up. My fingertips were trembling as I unlocked the tablet. I took Mom's ice-cold hand in mine. "Clara was Dad's old girlfriend. They rekindled things right when you got pregnant with me."
I kept my voice low, afraid each word might shatter her. "He used your money to buy her a place and jewelry. When you were sick in your first trimester, throwing up everything you ate, he was off playing house with her. When your legs swelled so badly in the second trimester you could barely walk, lying awake all night in pain, he was sleeping with her, every single night.
"After I was born, when you were miserable during recovery and almost slipped into postpartum depression. He said he was swamped with a new project. The truth was Clara was pregnant too. He was right there with her through her morning sickness, hiring her a nutritionist and a postpartum doula.
"And when you almost died giving birth to me—nearly didn't make it, that was him. He wanted us gone so he could play the grieving widower, milk Grandpa for sympathy and guilt, and use that to win over the veterans and seize more power in the company." I wiped the tears from Mom's cheeks and hugged her gently.
"Mom, he's never loved you. The chat logs, the emails between him and her—it's all there. Rock solid proof." I couldn't hold back anymore. I broke down crying. My lips trembled. "All these years… he's always been so gentle and caring with me. I never thought…" I swallowed the lump in my throat and kept going.
"Mom, do you remember when I got kidn*pped as a kid?" Mom nodded slowly, her eyes welling up. "Your father was beside himself with guilt. He swore through red-rimmed eyes that if anything happened to you, he'd never forgive himself.
"When they finally found you, he was skin and bones. Couldn't sleep a wink the whole time. Seeing him like that… I really thought I'd married the right man."
By the end, her voice was so choked up she could barely speak. All I felt was bitter irony. I spoke quietly. "What if I told you none of it was real? He hired those men. If I'd died, he would've had the perfect excuse to bring his own son into the family."
"What?" Mom's head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock.
"If an FBI agent hadn't been nearby that day—heard the Sterling Holdings heiress was kidn*pped and stepped in—I'd be dead. You thought he was so anxious afterward, clinging to you, because he needed you? Maybe he was just scared you'd calm down and connect the dots. Scared of what Grandpa would do—scared he'd lose everything."
When I finished, Mom held me even tighter. Her voice was eerily calm. "Infidelity. A love child. Marital fraud. Attempted murder of the heir. Any one of these is enough to ruin that bastard completely. Maybe I've been too gentle all these years. Made him forget who I really am." The tears kept coming.
I hated Dad for being so cruel and fake—for letting Mom live in this lie of a perfect marriage, forcing her to endure this humiliation and betrayal.
I hated that I'd never known real fatherly love. Most of all, I hated him for plotting against Mom and me—all for his mistress and his bastard son. It took a long time before I could stop crying. I grabbed a tissue and dabbed my eyes dry.
Just then, Dad called Mom's phone. "Honey, I've got several overseas video conferences tonight. Take Vivian to the Hawaii villa first, okay? I'll wrap these meetings up and fly over to join you."
Mom and I exchanged a look. "Several overseas video conferences." Before today, Mom would've never doubted it.
He was clever. Who knew how many times he'd used business trips and meetings as cover to meet up with Clara. And now he was trying the same trick again—send us away so he could run off to her?
'Not a chance.' I wanted to see just how peaceful his Christmas was going to be this year.
- Writer
