Chapter 20 - THE HEIR WHO NEVER EXISTED
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The photograph was taken six months before Richard Moretti died.
The young man standing beside him was not Vincent. He was older, with the same dark hair and sharp jawline, but his eyes were different.
Arthur stared at the image.
"Who is this?"
Amelia shook her head.
"My mother called him Daniel."
Vincent looked confused.
"Daniel Whitmore?"
"No. Another Daniel. My mother said he was Richard's son."
The room fell silent.
Richard Moretti had supposedly fathered only one child.
Vincent.
But the photograph suggested that he had another son, one the family had never acknowledged.
Arthur sat down slowly.
"That is impossible."
Amelia placed another document on the table.
It was a birth certificate issued in another state, listing Richard Moretti as the father and an unknown woman as the mother.
The child's name was Daniel Rose.
The date matched the year before Vincent was born.
Vincent stared at the document.
"Why would my father hide another son?"
Arthur looked toward the fireplace.
"Because the family was already fighting over the estate. Richard may have believed another heir would place his children in danger."
Amelia shook her head.
"My mother said Daniel disappeared after the accident. She believed someone had taken him away to prevent him from claiming the inheritance."
I thought of Eleanor's warning.
The person who wears it publicly is not necessarily the rightful owner.
The bracelet had led us to the trust, the forged documents, Vivian's identity, and the truth about Richard's death.
Now it had brought us to another heir.
But there was still no sign of Vivian.
The investigators continued searching for her. The evidence against her was substantial, yet without her testimony, some of the questions surrounding Richard's death remained unanswered.
Vincent and I began living separately while the legal proceedings continued. He did not ask me to return. He attended counseling, cooperated with the investigation, and publicly acknowledged that he had failed to protect my dignity during our marriage.
I appreciated the changes.
I did not confuse them with forgiveness.
Several months later, the court confirmed my appointment as trustee of Eleanor's charitable foundation. The missing funds were partially recovered, Rebecca Carter's name was cleared, and Sophia began rebuilding her life away from the expectations Vincent had encouraged.
We were not friends.
But one afternoon, she sent me a letter.
I thought being chosen meant someone else had to lose. I understand now that I was wrong. I'm sorry for what I did to you.
I placed the letter inside Eleanor's box.
I did not know whether I would ever forgive Sophia, but I no longer needed her regret to prove that I had been wronged.
As for Vincent, he continued to send me messages.
He never asked me to forget.
He simply told me what he was doing differently, without expecting me to reward him for it.
Perhaps that was the first honest thing he had done in years.
On the anniversary of Eleanor's death, I returned to Rosewood alone.
The jade bracelet rested in its velvet box. I had chosen not to wear it.
I no longer needed an heirloom to tell me where I belonged.
As I prepared to leave, the estate's security system notified me that someone had entered the old archive room.
I called the guards.
They found no one.
But on the desk lay a new envelope addressed to me.
Inside was a photograph of a man standing outside a courthouse in Boston.
On the back, someone had written:
Daniel Rose is alive.
Beneath it was a second message.
He knows who was driving when Richard Moretti died.
My phone rang.
The number was unfamiliar.
I answered cautiously.
A man's voice spoke.
"Claire Bennett Moretti?"
"Who is this?"
"My name is Daniel Rose. I believe you have something that belongs to my family."
"What are you talking about?"
"The jade bracelet. My mother told me it was the key to the original agreement."
I gripped the phone.
"Who is your mother?"
He was silent for several seconds.
Then he said a name that made my blood run cold.
"Eleanor Moretti."
I stared at the photograph.
The man continued.
"She wasn't just my father's attorney, Claire. She was my mother."
The line went dead.
For a long moment, I stood alone in the quiet house, listening to the wind move through the trees.
Eleanor had entrusted me with the bracelet, the trust, and the responsibility of protecting the family.
But she had never told me that she had a son.
And if Daniel Rose was telling the truth, the Moretti inheritance had been built on a lie far older than my marriage.
I looked down at the jade bracelet.
Then I noticed something I had never seen before.
A tiny panel had opened beneath the clasp.
Inside was a folded strip of paper bearing three words in Eleanor's handwriting.
TRUST NO HEIR.
I read them twice.
Then my phone vibrated again.
A photograph appeared on the screen.
Vincent stood beside a man whose face was hidden in shadow.
Beneath the image was a final message.
Your husband already knows I'm alive.
I stared at the screen, unable to breathe.
Because the message had been sent from Vincent's private number.
May you like
And somewhere in Chicago, my husband was keeping one last secret from me.
TO BE CONTINUED...
