Chapter 3 - The Tape From 1998
The man introduced himself as Samuel Reed.
He was seventy-three.
He carried no weapon.
What he carried was far more dangerous.
A cassette tape.
Samuel placed it on Grace’s kitchen table.
Written across the label in Eleanor’s handwriting were three words:
FOR GRACE ONLY.
Grace stared at it.
“Where did you get this?”
“Your mother gave it to me nineteen years ago.”
“Why wait?”
“She gave me instructions.”
“What instructions?”
“To deliver it only if someone publicly spoke Abigail Whitmore’s full name.”
Victoria went pale.
“That happened last night.”
Samuel nodded.
“I know.”
Grace looked at Adrian.
“You were right. People were watching.”
Samuel gave Adrian a tired smile.
“People have been watching this family for decades.”
Grace found an old cassette player in Noah’s closet.
Her hands shook as she inserted the tape.
Eleanor’s voice filled the kitchen.
“If you are hearing this, Grace, then I failed to keep the past buried.”
Grace covered her mouth.
Her mother sounded younger.
Stronger.
“Abigail Grace Whitmore was born Abigail Grace Mercer on April 11, 1993. Her mother was Rebecca Mercer.”
Victoria gripped the table.
“No.”
The recording continued.
“Rebecca died in 1998 under circumstances that were called accidental. I did not believe they were accidental then. I do not believe it now.”
Victoria’s eyes filled.
Richard Whitmore was not named as her biological father.
Instead, Eleanor described a complicated chain of guardianship documents.
Rebecca Mercer had been an employee of Whitmore International.
After Rebecca’s death, five-year-old Abigail entered Haven House temporarily.
Three weeks later, Richard and his late wife Catherine Whitmore announced Victoria as their daughter.
Official records claimed a private adoption had occurred years earlier.
It had not.
Grace stopped the tape.
Victoria stood.
“My entire life is fake.”
“No,” Grace said.
“Your paperwork might be. You aren’t.”
Victoria stared at her.
Grace restarted the recording.
Eleanor explained that Sofia Moretti had uncovered payments made to Haven House.
Families paid enormous sums.
Birth certificates changed.
Records disappeared.
Some birth parents were pressured into surrendering children.
Others never knew where their children had gone.
Sofia had copied the financial ledger.
Eleanor had hidden it.
Adrian leaned closer to the recorder.
The final part changed everything.
“Richard Whitmore is not the only person responsible. If he is still alive when this recording is heard, understand this clearly: Richard was afraid of someone too.”
The tape clicked.
Grace frowned.
“That’s it?”
Samuel shook his head.
“There were two tapes.”
“Where’s the second?”
“I never had it.”
Victoria looked at him.
“Who did?”
Samuel’s answer came quietly.
“Sofia Moretti.”
Adrian stood.
“My mother?”
Samuel nodded.
“She survived because Eleanor got her out of New York.”
“Where is the ledger?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who does?”
Samuel looked at Grace.
“Your mother believed Grace would eventually find it.”
Grace almost laughed.
“My mother left me debt, a bakery mixer, and a house in Ohio we had to sell.”
“Then look at what she refused to sell.”
Grace stopped.
The bakery.
Eleanor had owned Bennett’s Bakery before Grace was born.
When she became ill, she transferred it to Grace for one dollar.
Grace had nearly sold it twice.
Each time Eleanor begged her not to.
“It’s there,” Grace whispered.
Adrian understood immediately.
They drove to the bakery that afternoon.
The shop occupied a narrow brick storefront in Queens after Eleanor had relocated the business from Ohio years earlier.
Grace unlocked the rear office.
They searched for two hours.
Nothing.
Victoria sat on the floor surrounded by old invoices.
Noah checked cupboards.
Adrian examined walls.
Grace became frustrated.
“My mother wasn’t a spy.”
Samuel smiled.
“No. She was smarter than most spies.”
Grace looked around.
Her mother had always baked one thing every Sunday.
Apple bread.
She kept the handwritten recipe framed above the mixer.
Grace removed the frame.
Behind the recipe was a second sheet of paper.
Numbers.
Noah frowned.
“Measurements?”
Adrian looked closer.
“Safe combination.”
They found the safe beneath the industrial mixer.
Inside was a blue ribbon.
A child’s bracelet.
A ledger.
And another cassette.
Victoria picked up the bracelet.
Engraved inside were the initials A.G.M.
Abigail Grace Mercer.
Victoria began to cry.
Grace held her.
For the first time, billionaire heiress and waitress disappeared.
There were simply two women trying to understand why their mothers had been forced to live with the same secret.
Adrian opened the ledger.
His face hardened.
“What?”
He turned it around.
Payments.
Dates.
Names.
Politicians.
Judges.
Businessmen.
Some were dead.
Others remained among the most powerful people in America.
Then Grace saw one name she recognized.
Richard Whitmore.
Beside it:
$2,000,000 — MERCER TRANSFER.
Victoria recoiled.
“He bought me.”
Grace squeezed her hand.
“We don’t know exactly what that means.”
Victoria pointed.
“What else could it mean?”
Adrian turned several pages.
Then stopped.
His expression changed.
Grace had never seen fear on his face before.
“What is it?”
He showed them.
SOFIA MORETTI — WITNESS TERMINATION AUTHORIZED.
Adrian went completely still.
“My father told me she disappeared voluntarily.”
Samuel shook his head.
“She was supposed to die.”
“Who authorized it?”
Samuel looked at the ledger.
“The initials.”
R.W.
Victoria whispered, “Richard Whitmore.”
But Grace noticed something.
The handwriting differed.
“Wait.”
She compared entries.
Richard’s initials appeared elsewhere.
Different handwriting.
Different slant.
“This wasn’t him.”
Adrian examined it.
She was right.
Someone had used Richard’s initials.
Victoria looked confused.
“Then who?”
The bakery bell rang.
Everyone froze.
Grace had locked the front door.
Adrian moved silently toward the shop.
A woman stood outside.
Late sixties.
Silver hair.
Dark glasses.
She held a cane.
Adrian stopped dead.
The woman removed her glasses.
“Sofia.”
His voice cracked.
Grace had never imagined Adrian Moretti capable of looking like a frightened child.
His mother stared through the glass.
Then she looked directly at Victoria.
She mouthed three words.
DON’T TRUST RICHARD.
Adrian unlocked the door.
Sofia stepped inside.
Mother and son stared at each other.
“You told me you were staying in Italy,” Adrian said.
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“To keep you alive.”
Adrian’s anger surfaced.
“You disappeared for six months this time.”
“I had to.”
“You could have called.”
“No.”
Sofia touched his face.
“If they knew you had spoken to me, they would know I remembered.”
“Remembered what?”
She looked toward Victoria.
“The night Rebecca Mercer died.”
Victoria stood.
“You knew my mother?”
Sofia’s face filled with grief.
“I was there.”
Victoria’s knees weakened.
Grace caught her.
“Tell me.”
Sofia shook her head.
“Not here.”
“Please.”
“I will tell you everything.”
A vehicle screeched outside.
Adrian looked toward the window.
Two black SUVs stopped.
Sofia whispered, “They followed me.”
Adrian locked the door.
“Back exit.”
Everyone moved.
Grace grabbed the ledger and tapes.
Noah carried the box.
They entered the alley.
A car waited.
Samuel opened the rear door.
They piled inside.
As they drove away, Grace looked back.
Men entered the bakery.
Minutes later her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Grace Bennett?”
“Yes?”
The voice was electronically distorted.
“You found the ledger.”
Grace’s blood went cold.
“Who is this?”
“You should ask Victoria what happened to Rebecca Mercer.”
Victoria heard her name.
Grace put the call on speaker.
The voice continued.
“Then ask Adrian why his father paid to hide the body.”
Adrian stared at the phone.
“That’s a lie.”
The caller laughed.
“You’re all protecting the wrong people.”
The line went dead.
Nobody spoke.
Then Sofia looked at Adrian.
Her silence said too much.
Adrian slowly turned toward his mother.
“Tell me that wasn’t true.”
Sofia lowered her eyes.
“Sofia.”
May you like
She whispered:
“Your father was there when Rebecca died.”
