Fate's Hidden Heir

6. Secret Benefactor

The drive back to Oakbridge was quieter than Jasmine expected. The echoes of the gala still lingered—Thalia’s cold warning, Victor’s strange advice, and Ethan’s unyielding indifference. The people at that gala knew her as "Ethan Sinclair’s wife" long before she even knew of his existence. That thought gnawed at her as the miles passed, and by the time she pulled into Oakbridge, a dull headache had settled between her eyes.

Home felt different somehow—more real, a world away from the wealth and secrets that surrounded the Sinclairs. As she entered her mother’s modest house, the familiar warmth of her surroundings settled over her like a blanket, a stark contrast to the calculated opulence of the Sinclair estate.

“Mom?” Jasmine called out, peeking into the kitchen. Her mother’s worn but gentle face appeared, and Jasmine couldn’t help but feel a pang of relief at the sight.

“Jas!” Her mother enveloped her in a warm hug. “How was your trip?”

“Oh… exhausting,” Jasmine said with a wry smile. She glanced around, noticing a small stack of bills sitting neatly on the counter. Her mother had always been careful with money, but Jasmine knew the medical bills from her mother’s ongoing treatments were a constant strain. “I missed this place,” she said, trying to push away her worries.

But her mother’s face lit up, as though she held some secret that she couldn’t wait to share. “You’ll never guess what happened, Jas.”

“What?” Jasmine asked, trying to match her mother’s enthusiasm.

“My hospital bills,” her mother said with a note of astonishment. “They’ve all been paid off. Completely. And I don’t mean just the old ones—everything.”

Jasmine froze, her heart hammering in her chest. “What? How… who would…?”

Her mother shrugged, her expression both grateful and puzzled. “There was no name, just an anonymous donation to the hospital. They called this morning to let us know.”

Jasmine’s mind raced. Could it be Ethan? After all, he was one of the few people who knew her predicament, and he certainly had the resources. But he hadn’t shown any hint of sympathy toward her or her family. If anything, he’d seemed indifferent at best, hostile at worst.

And yet, she couldn’t shake the suspicion that he was involved. It fit his modus operandi—grand gestures with no explanation. But the question was: why?

“What do you think it means, Mom?” Jasmine asked, her voice subdued.

Her mother’s face softened as she took Jasmine’s hand. “It means someone out there cares, Jas. Someone who wants to see us taken care of. That’s a blessing, isn’t it?”

Jasmine forced a smile, not wanting to taint her mother’s hope with her own doubts. “Yeah, Mom. It’s a blessing.”

But as she moved to her bedroom that night, Jasmine’s mind couldn’t rest. The anonymous payment didn’t feel like a blessing; it felt like a mystery. And in her experience, anything to do with the Sinclairs was rarely straightforward.

The next morning, Jasmine found herself wandering Oakbridge, trying to clear her head. She stopped by the local cafe, grabbing a coffee and savoring the quiet hum of small-town life. It was refreshing, knowing everyone in town, waving to familiar faces, exchanging polite nods. Here, at least, she wasn’t under the microscope of Sinclair scrutiny.

But just as she settled into her usual seat by the window, a man she didn’t recognize entered the cafe. He was dressed in a sharp suit, his gaze piercing as it scanned the room. It was clear he didn’t belong—his presence was far too polished, too… Sinclair-esque. She looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice her, but his gaze zeroed in on her like a target.

“Miss Devereaux?” he asked, his tone polite but firm.

“Yes?” Jasmine replied cautiously.

He slipped a card from his pocket and handed it to her. “I’m here on behalf of a benefactor. I was asked to deliver a message to you.”

“A benefactor?” Jasmine repeated, the word filling her with unease.

The man nodded. “They wanted you to know that your mother’s bills are covered as a sign of goodwill. Nothing more, nothing less. My employer wishes you well, and hopes that you can find some peace with this gift.”

Jasmine frowned, flipping the card over in her hands, but it was blank. “Who is your employer?”

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that,” the man replied, his expression unreadable. “Only that they wish for you to be safe, and to know that they have your best interests at heart.”

“Safe from what?” she demanded, a cold chill prickling her skin.

The man’s gaze flickered with something like pity. “I’m only a messenger, Miss Devereaux. But if I were to offer advice… I’d keep my distance from the Sinclair family.”

The words were like a slap, and Jasmine’s anger flared. “Let me guess—Ethan sent you. That’s what this is, isn’t it? A warning to stay out of his world?”

The man shook his head, a faint smile playing at his lips. “I assure you, this isn’t from Mr. Sinclair. It’s from someone else. Someone who knows the risks of getting entangled with the Sinclairs.”

Before she could press him further, the man tipped his hat, and with a nod, left the cafe, disappearing into the quiet streets of Oakbridge as suddenly as he’d arrived.

Jasmine sat there, the empty cup cooling in her hands as her mind churned over his words. An anonymous benefactor? Someone who cared for her safety? The more she thought about it, the more tangled it seemed. Was this a friend of her father’s, perhaps someone from his past? But why reach out now, years after his death, and why with such secrecy?

As she walked home, her mind clouded with questions, Jasmine spotted her childhood friend, Mia, on her front porch. Mia had known her since they were children, and if anyone could help her make sense of this, it was her.

“Hey, stranger!” Mia called, waving her over. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. How’s life in the big city?”

Jasmine smiled, though the weight of her recent revelations dulled her joy. “Let’s just say it’s been… an adventure.”

She sat down on the porch steps beside Mia, and, after a moment’s hesitation, shared everything that had happened since discovering the marriage certificate. Mia listened, her face shifting from shock to concern as the story unfolded.

“Jas, that’s insane. An anonymous benefactor? And you think it might be Ethan?”

Jasmine shrugged. “It’s possible. But if it was him, why send that messenger to warn me away?”

Mia shook her head, deep in thought. “Maybe it’s someone else entirely. Someone who knows the Sinclairs… maybe even fears them.”

“Or hates them,” Jasmine murmured, her mind racing. She glanced back at Mia. “But who? I can’t think of anyone connected to my family who would care enough to get involved like this.”

“Maybe it’s not about you, Jas,” Mia said, her voice thoughtful. “Maybe it’s about your father. You said he worked with the Sinclairs once, right? Maybe someone from that part of his life is watching out for you now.”

The thought made Jasmine’s heart ache with questions about her father’s past—questions she’d long buried but were now resurfacing with new urgency. How had her father, an unassuming man from Oakbridge, become involved with the powerful Sinclair family? And if this benefactor was connected to him, why had they stayed silent for so long?

That night, as she lay in bed, Jasmine couldn’t shake the feeling that she was on the edge of something far bigger than herself. The Sinclairs seemed intent on keeping her at arm’s length, while this mysterious benefactor was pulling her deeper, urging her to keep digging.

One thing was certain: the more she uncovered, the more secrets she found. And now, it wasn’t just her marriage or her family’s past on the line—it was her own safety.