Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Wasn’t Supposed to Remember
Brooke barely remembered the drive.
Adrian’s black SUV cut through afternoon traffic while two security vehicles followed.
She sat rigid in the back seat.
“Who is Leonard Wren?” she asked again.
Adrian stared out the window.
“My mother’s doctor.”
“I know that.”
“You asked who he is.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’m trying to work that out.”
Brooke looked at her phone.
Twenty-one missed calls to her mother.
No answer.
“What if he hurt her?”
“Marcus would have said.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
The honesty startled her.
Adrian Vale was the kind of man people expected to promise certainty.
Instead, he gave her the truth.
“I don’t.”
Brooke turned toward the window.
Her mother lived in a small row house in a working-class neighborhood twenty minutes outside the city.
Evelyn Whitaker had raised Brooke alone.
She had worked double shifts at diners, school cafeterias, and dry cleaners.
Brooke’s childhood had not been easy.
But it had been honest.
Or so she thought.
When the SUV stopped, Brooke was out before the driver opened her door.
Marcus met them on the porch.
“Your mother’s safe.”
Brooke nearly collapsed.
“Where?”
“Kitchen.”
She rushed inside.
Evelyn sat at the table with a blanket around her shoulders.
Her silvering blond hair was loose.
A glass of water trembled in her hands.
“Mom.”
Evelyn looked up.
“Brooke.”
Brooke hugged her.
“What happened?”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Evelyn looked past her.
Adrian entered the kitchen.
Everything in her face changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Adrian saw it.
“So you know me.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
Brooke stepped back.
“Mom?”
Marcus stood near the doorway.
“Dr. Wren was here when we arrived. He left through the rear before our team secured the yard.”
“You let him escape?” Adrian asked.
“He had a vehicle waiting.”
“Find it.”
“We are.”
Brooke turned to her mother.
“Why was he here?”
Evelyn said nothing.
“Mom.”
“Sit down.”
“I don’t want to sit down.”
“Brooke.”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“You’ve been ignoring my calls. A stranger photographed you. A dead woman’s pendant appeared at my job. And a doctor connected to Adrian’s mother was inside your house.”
She looked at Adrian.
“Tell us.”
Evelyn’s eyes filled.
“I promised.”
“Who?”
“A woman who had already lost too much.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“My mother?”
Evelyn looked at him.
“Yes.”
The word hit the room like a gunshot.
Brooke stared at her.
“You knew Beatrice Vale?”
Evelyn nodded.
“How?”
“I worked at St. Agnes.”
Brooke sat down.
Her mother had always said she worked in a laundry after high school.
“I cleaned rooms,” Evelyn said. “Laundry. Kitchens. Whatever they needed.”
Adrian leaned against the counter.
“What happened in October 1988?”
Evelyn’s fingers tightened around the glass.
“A baby was born.”
“My sister.”
“Yes.”
“Did she die?”
Evelyn looked at him.
“No.”
Adrian’s face went still.
Brooke watched him absorb the answer he had been expecting yet perhaps still feared hearing.
“Then where is she?”
Evelyn stared at Brooke.
Brooke’s pulse began pounding.
“No.”
Her mother started crying.
“No.”
“Brooke—”
“No.”
Evelyn reached for her.
Brooke pulled back.
“You’re not saying what I think you’re saying.”
Evelyn whispered, “I was nineteen.”
Brooke stood.
“No.”
“They brought the baby to the nursery. Your grandmother—”
“My grandmother?”
Evelyn nodded.
“Margaret Vale.”
Adrian stiffened.
“My grandmother ordered the baby removed?”
“She said Bianca had a heart defect. She said the family couldn’t endure another scandal.”
“What scandal?”
Evelyn looked at Adrian.
“Your mother wanted to leave your father.”
Adrian’s expression darkened.
“She was pregnant with Bianca. She knew things about the family businesses. Things Margaret feared would come out during a divorce.”
“So they took the child.”
“They told Beatrice she died.”
Brooke shook her head.
“How does this involve us?”
Evelyn could barely speak.
“Because I helped move the baby.”
Brooke stared.
“You kidnapped her?”
“No!”
Evelyn stood.
“I thought I was saving her.”
“What did you do?”
“They paid a nurse to transfer her to St. Agnes under another name. Leonard Wren signed the papers. I was told she would be adopted.”
Adrian said, “By whom?”
Evelyn looked at Brooke.
“By my sister.”
Brooke stepped backward.
Her aunt Carol had died when Brooke was five.
She remembered almost nothing about her.
“She adopted Bianca?”
“Yes.”
“Then where is Bianca?”
Evelyn began sobbing.
Brooke did not want to hear the answer.
“I was twenty when Carol died,” Evelyn said. “The baby was eleven months old.”
“No.”
“There was nobody else.”
“No.”
“So I took her.”
Brooke pressed both hands over her mouth.
Adrian remained utterly still.
Evelyn whispered, “And I raised her as my daughter.”
Brooke looked down at herself.
Her hands.
Her blond hair.
Her mother’s blond hair.
Every photograph of her childhood rearranged itself in her mind.
Birthday cakes.
School uniforms.
Christmas mornings.
Her father who had supposedly left before she was born.
A birth certificate she had never questioned.
She looked at Evelyn.
“My birthday is October fourteenth.”
Evelyn nodded.
Brooke could not breathe.
Adrian gripped the back of a chair.
Brooke turned toward him.
His sister.
She was Adrian Vale’s sister.
“No,” Brooke said.
Evelyn stood.
“Brooke, listen to me.”
“You lied to me for thirty-seven years.”
“I loved you.”
“You lied.”
“I protected you.”
“From what?”
Evelyn looked at Adrian.
“From them.”
Adrian’s expression did not change.
But the insult landed.
Brooke walked toward the living room.
She needed air.
She needed distance.
She needed a world in which her mother was her mother and her employer was simply her employer and silver pendants remained jewelry instead of detonators.
Adrian followed.
“Brooke.”
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
She turned.
“Do you understand how ridiculous this is?”
“Yes.”
“No, you don’t. Yesterday I scrubbed your bathroom.”
His eyes tightened.
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“Brooke—”
“I cleaned your fiancée’s shoes.”
“I know.”
“I washed wine from napkins after your engagement party.”
“I know.”
“And now someone says I’m your sister?”
Adrian’s voice softened.
“She’s not someone.”
Brooke laughed bitterly.
“My mother lied to me my entire life.”
“She also kept you alive.”
Brooke stared.
“What?”
Adrian looked toward the kitchen.
“If my grandmother arranged Bianca’s disappearance because she considered the baby dangerous to the family, then anyone who knew Bianca survived was a threat.”
Evelyn appeared behind them.
“That’s why I hid her.”
Brooke turned.
“You thought they would kill a baby?”
Evelyn’s face answered before her words.
“They tried.”
Adrian straightened.
“When?”
“Twice before Carol died.”
Brooke felt sick.
Evelyn continued.
“A nurse switched medications. Then someone tampered with the brakes on Carol’s car.”
Adrian said quietly, “And Carol died in a car accident.”
“Yes.”
Brooke sank into a chair.
“You told me she fell asleep driving.”
“I didn’t know what else to tell you.”
Adrian walked to the window.
“Was my father involved?”
“I don’t know.”
“My grandmother?”
“Yes.”
“Leonard Wren?”
“Yes.”
“And Celeste?”
Evelyn looked confused.
“Who?”
“My fiancée.”
“I’ve never met her.”
Brooke looked up.
“Then why did she have the pendant?”
Evelyn went pale.
“What pendant?”
Adrian took it from his pocket.
Evelyn made a sound like someone being struck.
“Where did you get that?”
“Celeste’s dressing room.”
Evelyn took it in trembling fingers.
“I haven’t seen this since the night Beatrice gave it to me.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“My mother gave it to you?”
“She told me to give it to Bianca when she was old enough.”
Brooke stared.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because if anyone saw it…”
“You were still afraid.”
“I never stopped being afraid.”
Adrian leaned closer.
“Did Beatrice know Bianca survived?”
Evelyn hesitated.
“For a while.”
“What does that mean?”
“She found out six years later.”
Adrian’s breath caught.
“Before she died?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Leonard contacted her.”
“And?”
Evelyn’s lips trembled.
“She tried to get Bianca back.”
Adrian stared.
“My mother died when I was twenty.”
“I know.”
“The official report said heart failure.”
Evelyn looked away.
Adrian’s voice became frighteningly quiet.
“Was it?”
“I don’t know.”
“That means no.”
“I don’t know.”
Brooke stepped between them.
“Stop.”
Adrian looked at her.
“My mother may have been murdered.”
“And mine has lived terrified for thirty years.”
“I’m not threatening her.”
“You don’t need to.”
He stepped back.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Marcus entered.
“We found Wren’s vehicle.”
Adrian turned.
“Where?”
“Abandoned two blocks away.”
“Cameras?”
“Checking.”
Marcus held up a sealed plastic envelope.
“We also found this under the passenger seat.”
Inside was a flash drive.
And a handwritten note.
Adrian read it.
His expression changed.
Brooke took the paper.
One sentence.
If Bianca has been found, do not trust Celeste Marlowe.
Brooke looked at Adrian.
“Why?”
A phone rang from the kitchen.
Evelyn’s landline.
Everyone froze.
It rang again.
Evelyn whispered, “Nobody calls that number.”
Third ring.
Brooke walked toward it.
Adrian caught her wrist.
“Speaker.”
She pressed the button.
“Hello?”
For several seconds, there was only breathing.
Then an elderly male voice.
“Bianca?”
Brooke’s blood turned cold.
“Who is this?”
The man whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Dr. Wren?”
“I thought they would leave you alone.”
“Who?”
A sound came through the receiver.
A door slamming.
Wren gasped.
Then whispered urgently:
May you like
“They know Adrian found you.”
The line went dead.
