Chapter 4: The Woman Who Raised Me
"I'm the woman who took you home from the hospital.""
For a moment, I couldn't hear anything else.
The woman stood beneath the crystal chandeliers, her navy coat slightly damp from the rain outside. Her silver-streaked hair was pulled into a loose knot, and her hands trembled around the strap of her handbag.
I stared at her.
"Who are you?""
She swallowed.
"My name is Margaret Hayes.""
The name meant nothing to me.
But the way Eleanor reacted told me everything.
She gripped her silver cane so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
"Margaret?""
The stranger looked at her.
"Hello, Eleanor.""
Nathaniel stepped between them.
"How do you know my mother?""
Margaret gave a tired smile.
"Your father introduced us thirty years ago.""
Eleanor shook her head.
"You told me you had left New York.""
"I did.""
"You promised never to come back.""
"I know.""
"Then why are you here?""
Margaret looked at me.
"Because your daughter deserves to know who she is.""
I felt my chest tighten.
"Stop calling me Eleanor's daughter. Nobody has explained anything.""
Margaret nodded.
"You're right. You deserve the truth.""
Victoria laughed from behind us.
"Oh, wonderful. Another woman with a tragic story and a convenient connection to the Callaway fortune.""
Nathaniel turned sharply.
"Marcus, get her away from us.""
Victoria lifted her chin.
"You're going to regret treating me like this.""
"Not nearly as much as I'll regret marrying you.""
Two security guards approached her.
She didn't resist. Instead, she looked directly at Margaret.
"You shouldn't have come.""
Margaret's expression hardened.
"Neither should you.""
For the first time that evening, Victoria looked genuinely frightened.
The guards escorted her toward the private elevator.
But before the doors closed, she turned to Nathaniel.
"Your father knew what she was. Ask Margaret what happened to the original baby.""
The elevator doors shut.
Nathaniel immediately faced the older woman.
"Start talking.""
Margaret glanced at the guests.
"Not here.""
"I've spent the last hour discovering that my entire childhood was built on lies. You're not going to ask me to wait.""
"Then let's find somewhere private.""
Marcus led us into a private conference room adjoining the rooftop restaurant. Eleanor walked slowly, leaning heavily on her cane. Nathaniel stayed beside her, while I followed Margaret.
Thomas was taken into another room under security supervision.
Once the door closed, Margaret placed her handbag on the table.
She removed a small photograph.
It showed a younger version of herself standing outside a hospital nursery.
Beside her was my mother.
Grace.
I recognized her immediately.
She wore a pale blue uniform and had one hand resting on Margaret's shoulder.
I picked up the photograph.
"Where was this taken?""
"St. Vincent's. The night you were born.""
"Why were you there?""
Margaret sat down.
"Because I had lost my own daughter six months earlier.""
Her voice cracked.
"I had given birth prematurely. She lived for three days. After that, I couldn't bear to enter a hospital.""
She looked at the photograph.
"Grace was my closest friend. She worked at St. Vincent's, and she knew I wasn't recovering. She visited me every week.""
I swallowed.
"What does that have to do with me?""
Margaret folded her hands.
"Your father was Richard Callaway. Your biological father.""
I stared at her.
"That's impossible.""
"Your mother never told you?""
"No. She told me my father died before I was born.""
Margaret nodded sadly.
"That was the story Grace created to protect you.""
Nathaniel pulled out a chair.
"Then why did you say you took Rose home?""
Margaret looked at him.
"Because I did.""
She reached into her handbag again and produced a folded document.
It was a birth certificate.
The name at the top was Rose Elizabeth Hayes.
My date of birth.
My hospital.
My mother's name.
But beneath the section marked father, there was a name.
Richard James Callaway.
My fingers began trembling.
"Why does this say Hayes?""
Margaret met my eyes.
"Because Richard arranged for you to be registered under my name.""
I looked at her.
"You adopted me?""
"Not legally. Not at first.""
"Then what?""
She took a breath.
"Your biological mother, Grace, was told that the baby she had given birth to was stillborn.""
I felt something tear inside my chest.
"No.""
Margaret nodded.
"Richard had arranged for the records to be altered. He believed the baby girl would never survive. But when you were born, the doctors managed to stabilize you.""
"Why would he give me to you?""
"Because he wanted you hidden.""
Nathaniel leaned forward.
"Hidden from whom?""
Margaret looked at Eleanor.
"From his wife.""
Silence.
I turned toward Eleanor.
"Your husband was married to someone else?""
Eleanor shook her head.
"No. I was his wife.""
Margaret's voice softened.
"Not legally, Eleanor. Not in the way you think.""
Eleanor's face drained of color.
"Richard and I were married. We had a son. But the marriage certificate was never filed.""
Nathaniel stared at her.
"What?""
"Your father had another marriage before me. His first wife died, but there was a dispute over the estate. He couldn't legally remarry until the matter was settled.""
Margaret nodded.
"By the time it was settled, Richard had already established a second household. He used Eleanor's name publicly because she came from a respectable family.""
I looked at Eleanor.
"Then what was your marriage?""
"A promise," she whispered.
"One I believed in.""
Margaret continued.
"Richard had an arrangement with a woman named Vivian Sterling. She was Victoria's mother.""
Nathaniel went completely still.
"Victoria's mother?""
"Yes.""
I felt cold.
Margaret slid another photograph across the table.
It showed Richard Callaway standing between two women.
One was Eleanor.
The other was a striking brunette wearing a dark dress.
On the back was written:
Richard, Eleanor, Vivian. Christmas, 1995.
Nathaniel stared at the photograph.
"Victoria knew?""
Margaret nodded.
"Her mother raised her to believe she was entitled to the Callaway family fortune.""
I thought about Victoria's behavior on the rooftop.
Her certainty.
Her anger.
Her insistence that nobody should discover what happened to my mother.
Suddenly, her obsession with Eleanor made a terrible kind of sense.
"Was Victoria my father's daughter?""
Margaret hesitated.
"That is something you need to understand before you make any assumptions.""
Nathaniel stood.
"Enough riddles. Was she?""
Margaret looked at him.
"Richard believed she was.""
Eleanor closed her eyes.
"But he wasn't sure.""
Margaret opened her handbag and removed a small velvet pouch.
Inside was a gold locket.
I recognized it immediately.
It was identical to the one my mother had worn in every childhood photograph.
My throat tightened.
"Where did you get that?""
"Grace gave it to me before she disappeared.""
Margaret opened it.
Inside was a tiny photograph of a newborn baby.
On the opposite side was a handwritten message.
For my little girl. If you ever find me, remember that I never gave you away.
I pressed the locket against my chest.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
Margaret's eyes filled.
"Because I promised Grace I would keep you safe.""
"Safe from what?""
She looked toward the door.
"From Richard. And from the people who were willing to do anything to inherit his fortune.""
Nathaniel pulled out his phone.
"I'm calling the police. We're getting DNA tests, and we're finding out exactly who everyone is.""
Margaret nodded.
"That's wise.""
But Eleanor suddenly stood.
"Wait.""
She reached for the photograph.
Her eyes moved across the faces.
Then she pointed to a man standing in the background.
"Who is that?""
Margaret leaned closer.
Her expression changed.
"I don't know.""
Eleanor shook her head.
"Yes, you do.""
She pointed at the man's left hand.
A thick gold ring was visible.
A ring bearing the Callaway family crest.
Nathaniel leaned forward.
"That's my grandfather's ring.""
Eleanor's voice became barely audible.
"Your grandfather died before you were born.""
Margaret stared at the photograph.
Then she whispered:
"Not according to Richard.""
Before anyone could respond, my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
A text message appeared.
Rose, if Margaret has told you she raised you, she's lying about the most important part.
A second message followed.
Ask her what happened to the baby she brought home.
I looked up.
Margaret was watching me.
"Who sent that?"" she asked.
I turned the phone toward her.
Her face went white.
May you like
And then she said something that made Nathaniel immediately reach for his phone.
"Your biological mother is alive.""
