Chapter 5 - My Mother’s Secret
The signature was forged.
I knew immediately.
So did Detective Velez.
But the person who had witnessed it was my mother.
Her signature appeared directly beneath mine.
I drove to her house with Velez and an attorney.
Laurelai opened the door and seemed to age ten years when she saw us.
“Tell them,” I said.
“Sloan—”
“Tell them everything.”
She sat at the dining table.
Then the story finally came apart.
Hayes had learned about Jonathan Vale through Camille Ross.
Camille had once worked for a law firm involved in Vale’s estate planning.
She knew there was an unnamed biological beneficiary.
Hayes followed the trail to my mother.
At first, Laurelai refused to cooperate.
Then Hayes threatened to expose the affair that had resulted in my birth.
I almost laughed when she told me.
“Dad knew.”
She looked down.
“I know.”
“Then what exactly were you protecting?”
“My reputation.”
There it was.
Not me.
Never me.
Her image.
Just like Delaney’s wedding.
Just like the cameras.
Hayes convinced Laurelai that the inheritance would destroy our family.
He said Delaney’s marriage would become a public scandal.
He said reporters would dig into everything.
And then he offered a solution.
I would sign away the beneficial interest.
When my mother told him I never would, the plan changed.
The wedding would provoke me.
The footage would portray me as volatile and threatening.
The psychiatric petition would create leverage.
The injury would ensure I left the reception and went somewhere they could obtain biological material while controlling the narrative.
“But why DNA?” I asked.
Laurelai covered her face.
“Hayes wanted confirmation before he went any further.”
“You let them hurt me to verify whether I was rich enough to manipulate.”
She cried.
I didn’t comfort her.
Then I asked the hardest question.
“Did Delaney know?”
“Yes.”
Everything inside me went quiet.
“How much?”
“Not everything.”
“How much?”
“She knew Hayes wanted footage of you losing control.”
“And the tiara?”
“She thought the point would retract.”
“That’s what she told me.”
“She didn’t know Camille had replaced it.”
I looked at Velez.
“Replaced what?”
My mother went pale.
The original modified tiara had contained a harmless retractable prop.
Camille secretly switched the mechanism.
Hayes apparently hadn’t known.
Neither had Delaney.
That didn’t absolve them.
They had still planned an assault disguised as entertainment.
But it meant someone else had escalated it.
“Why?” Velez asked.
Laurelai whispered, “Because Camille didn’t want Sloan signing anything.”
I stared at her.
“Why not?”
“She wanted the trust invalidated completely.”
“For whom?”
“I don’t know.”
Velez leaned forward.
“Laurelai.”
My mother shook her head.
“I swear.”
The investigation expanded.
Camille disappeared.
Her apartment was empty.
Her phone was disconnected.
Then the police found something in Hayes’s office.
A contract.
It promised Camille a substantial payment if Hayes gained “management influence” over my Vale assets.
But Camille had another arrangement.
A hidden one.
Someone else was paying her more.
The name had been removed.
That evening, Delaney called me.
She was crying so hard I could barely understand her.
“Hayes was arrested.”
I knew.
Forgery.
Conspiracy.
Evidence tampering.
Other charges were still being evaluated.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I’m not the person you should be asking to make you feel better.”
“I know.”
“No, Delaney. You don’t.”
“I thought it was content.”
I almost hung up.
“You thought humiliating me was content.”
“I know how that sounds.”
“It sounds exactly like what it was.”
She became silent.
Then she said, “I have something.”
“What?”
“Hayes kept another phone.”
My attention sharpened.
“Where?”
“I found it inside the lining of his travel bag.”
“Don’t touch anything else.”
“There are messages.”
“Call Detective Velez.”
“I did.”
I heard a sound behind her.
A door.
Delaney stopped breathing.
“What was that?”
“I’m alone.”
“Lock yourself in a room.”
“Sloan—”
“Now.”
Footsteps sounded faintly through the phone.
Then Delaney whispered:
“Someone just came inside.”
I stood.
“Call 911.”
“I’m looking at the security app.”
Her breathing changed.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“Sloan...”
“What do you see?”
She whispered a name.
May you like
“Camille.”
Then the line went dead...
