Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN WHO ARRANGED MY MARRIAGEI didn't sleep after reading Patricia's letter.
Every memory of my relationship replayed in my mind with a different meaning.
Our first date.
Daniel bringing flowers to my office.
His sudden interest in my grandmother.
The way he asked questions about my family history but rarely spoke about his own.
His insistence that we marry quickly.
The prenup he claimed his family required.
I remembered how hurt I'd felt when he suggested one.
I'd thought he was protecting his wealth from me.
Now I wondered whether he'd actually been protecting himself from the claims I didn't know I possessed.
At six in the morning, I found Rebecca sitting at the hotel suite's dining table with two cups of coffee and a stack of documents.
"You're awake," she said.
"I never really went to sleep."
She studied my face.
"Have you eaten?"
I shook my head.
She pushed a plate of toast toward me.
"Try."
I sat down.
For several minutes, we worked in silence.
Then I asked, "Is there any chance Daniel genuinely loved me?"
Rebecca took a careful breath.
"Evelyn, people can have mixed motives. Someone may begin a relationship for a dishonest reason and develop real feelings later."
I looked at her.
"Do you think that's what happened?"
"I think his actions matter more than whatever feelings he claims to have."
I stared at the toast.
She was right.
Whatever Daniel had felt, he'd demanded a divorce while his family humiliated me.
He'd tried to obtain documents declaring me dead.
He'd interfered with my finances.
And he'd concealed a connection to my mother's death.
Love wasn't an excuse for any of it.
I picked up a piece of toast.
For the baby, I managed three bites.
At ten that morning, I arrived at my obstetrician's office.
Rebecca waited outside the examination room.
My doctor, Dr. Hannah Morales, had treated me through both miscarriages.
She knew exactly how much this pregnancy meant.
When she saw my expression, she immediately asked whether something had happened.
"My marriage is ending," I said.
She paused.
"I'm sorry."
"It's complicated."
"Most endings are."
She checked my blood pressure, reviewed my symptoms, and asked whether I'd experienced any cramping or bleeding.
I hadn't.
Then she performed the ultrasound.
The screen glowed.
Gray shadows.
Soft movement.
And there it was.
A tiny flickering heartbeat.
Dr. Morales smiled.
"Everything looks appropriate for this stage."
I burst into tears.
Not because anything was wrong.
Because something was still right.
The world outside that examination room had become a maze of lies.
But this small heartbeat was real.
I watched the screen and felt a fierce determination rise inside me.
No matter what Daniel did, I would build a safe home for my child.
Dr. Morales handed me a printed ultrasound photograph.
I tucked it into my bag.
Then I asked her to document my medical status carefully.
"Someone has been falsely claiming I have a terminal illness."
Her face changed.
"What?"
I explained as much as I could.
She helped arrange for the medical practice's privacy officer to review account access and verify that no unauthorized third party had obtained or altered my records.
By the time I left, I felt slightly steadier.
Daniel might have tried to make me disappear on paper.
But I had medical records, identification, a business, and people who knew I was alive.
He wasn't going to erase me.
That afternoon, Rebecca received a call from an investigator assigned to review the suspected financial fraud.
The evidence had reached state and federal authorities because of the potential use of interstate financial institutions and charitable accounts.
Investigators had not yet made arrests.
But they were requesting documents.
Rebecca carefully explained that we would cooperate through proper channels.
I asked whether Daniel knew.
"Not necessarily," she said. "And we shouldn't assume what the investigators will do next."
I understood.
But staying quiet felt impossible.
Patricia Whitmore had arranged my introduction to her son.
She had sat across from me at Christmas dinners, accepted expensive gifts, and repeatedly mocked my background.
All while knowing exactly who my grandmother was.
I wanted to confront her.
Rebecca advised against it.
At least until we had preserved the evidence.
By late afternoon, however, Patricia had made the decision for me.
She came to Rebecca's office unannounced.
The receptionist called upstairs.
"Mrs. Whitmore is here. She says she won't leave until she speaks to Evelyn."
Rebecca looked at me.
"You don't have to see her."
I considered it.
Then I said, "I want to hear what she has to say."
Rebecca insisted on remaining in the room.
Marcus stood nearby.
Patricia entered wearing a cream-colored Chanel suit and pearls.
Her hair was perfect.
Her makeup flawless.
She looked exactly as she had at the dinner.
Except now, the confidence was gone.
"Evelyn."
I didn't stand.
"Patricia."
She glanced at Rebecca.
"Must we have an audience?"
"Yes."
Her mouth tightened.
She sat down.
For a moment, she looked around the office as though evaluating the furniture.
Then she folded her hands.
"I understand Daniel has made some mistakes."
I stared at her.
"Some mistakes?"
"He's been under enormous financial pressure."
"That doesn't explain why he told people I was dead."
Her face went pale.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Rebecca slid a copy of the purported death certificate across the table.
Patricia looked down.
Her hands trembled.
"Where did you get this?"
"Richard."
She closed her eyes.
"Of course."
I leaned forward.
"Why did you tell me Richard was dead?"
Patricia's lips pressed together.
"Daniel didn't want you involved in his father's affairs."
"Why?"
"Because Richard has always been determined to destroy this family."
I nearly laughed.
"Your husband?"
"My former husband," she corrected.
I blinked.
Daniel had told me his parents remained married until Richard's death.
Patricia noticed my expression.
"Oh, Evelyn. Surely you understand that our marriage ended long ago."
"No. I didn't know. Because you lied."
She looked toward Rebecca.
"Can we please discuss this like adults?"
"We are," Rebecca replied.
Patricia drew a shaky breath.
"Richard humiliated Daniel. He took control of the family businesses and left his own son with almost nothing."
"Why?"
"Because Charles made poor financial decisions, and Richard blamed the rest of us."
"Did Charles steal from my mother?"
Patricia looked away.
"Your mother was involved in matters she didn't understand."
I felt something inside me turn cold.
"My mother was a certified auditor."
"She was stubborn."
"She was killed."
Patricia stared at me.
I leaned closer.
"Was her death an accident?"
For one long moment, Patricia said nothing.
Then she whispered, "I don't know."
I didn't believe her.
Rebecca placed another document on the table.
The letter arranging my introduction to Daniel.
Patricia's face changed completely.
She reached for it.
Rebecca held it in place.
"Where did you get that?"
I watched her.
"You recognized my name before we met."
She swallowed.
"Evelyn—"
"You arranged for Daniel to meet me."
"I introduced two people who happened to be compatible."
"Because I was Catherine Parker's daughter."
Patricia's eyes filled.
She looked toward the door.
For the first time, she seemed to understand that there was no easy escape.
"Daniel was desperate," she whispered.
"Desperate for what?"
"To save the family."
"From whom?"
She looked directly at me.
"From you."
The words struck harder than I'd expected.
"Me?"
"Your grandmother had spent years trying to recover assets that would have destroyed everything Charles built. When she died, the claim passed to you."
I sat completely still.
Patricia continued.
"Daniel believed that if you became his wife, you might eventually agree to a settlement."
"Then why didn't he tell me?"
"Because you were stubborn, just like your mother."
My hands curled into fists.
Rebecca spoke sharply.
"Be very careful, Mrs. Whitmore."
Patricia ignored her.
"Daniel was supposed to convince you to sign the restructuring agreement. Then your family would receive a reasonable settlement, and all this would finally end."
"Reasonable according to whom?"
She didn't answer.
I thought of the papers Daniel had placed beside my breakfast three days earlier.
The ones he called routine.
"How much was the agreement worth?"
Patricia looked down.
"Evelyn, please."
"How much?"
Her voice became barely audible.
"Depending on the final valuation, potentially more than forty million dollars."
I stopped breathing.
Forty million.
Daniel had tried to convince me to sign away a claim worth potentially forty million dollars.
And he'd presented it as paperwork that would make our tax situation easier.
Rebecca remained calm.
"Mrs. Whitmore, that's an unverified estimate. We need the actual financial records."
Patricia looked exhausted.
"There are documents in Richard's possession."
"We know," Rebecca said.
I leaned back in my chair.
For years, Patricia had treated me as though I were lucky to receive leftovers from her family's table.
And all along, she'd been afraid of what I actually owned.
"Did Daniel ever love me?" I asked.
She looked startled.
Then she said, "He chose to marry you."
"That isn't what I asked."
Her silence was devastating.
I felt tears gathering.
But I refused to let them fall in front of her.
Patricia reached for my hand.
I pulled away.
"Evelyn, whatever happened, we can still fix this."
"No."
"Daniel doesn't have to divorce you."
I stared at her.
"Do you hear yourself?"
She blinked.
"You think staying married to your son is something I'm supposed to be grateful for?"
Patricia looked offended.
I stood.
"Five years ago, I loved Daniel more than anything. I trusted you because you were his mother. I wanted to belong to your family."
My voice shook.
"I paid your bills. I helped Marissa. I loved Oliver. And you sat at my dinner table treating me like a thief."
Patricia's eyes filled with tears.
"I was afraid."
"So was my mother."
She flinched.
I continued.
"The difference is that my mother tried to expose what was wrong. You helped hide it."
Patricia covered her face.
And then she said something I hadn't expected.
"I never wanted Catherine to die."
The room became silent.
Rebecca leaned forward.
"Mrs. Whitmore, what do you mean?"
Patricia shook her head.
"I shouldn't have said that."
I moved closer.
"Did you know someone was going to hurt her?"
"No."
"Did Charles threaten her?"
Patricia began to cry.
Rebecca's voice remained steady.
"Did you have information about threats against Catherine Parker?"
Patricia looked at the door.
Then she whispered, "Charles was furious. He believed Catherine would ruin him. He said he knew someone who could make the problem disappear."
I felt my blood turn cold.
"What happened next?"
Patricia stared at me.
"Two days before the crash, I heard him making a phone call."
"To whom?"
"I didn't know his name."
"Then what did he say?"
She closed her eyes.
"I heard Charles say that the problem needed to be settled before Friday."
Friday.
My mother had died on a Friday.
I gripped the back of my chair.
Rebecca asked, "Did you report this?"
Patricia shook her head.
"After the accident, Charles told me it was coincidence. He said if I accused him without evidence, I would destroy my own children."
I stared at her.
"And you believed him?"
"I wanted to."
The honesty hurt more than another lie.
Rebecca closed the folder.
"Mrs. Whitmore, you should obtain independent legal counsel. This information must be preserved and provided to investigators."
Patricia nodded weakly.
Then she looked at me.
"Please don't let them take Daniel away."
I shook my head.
"You still don't understand."
She began crying harder.
I picked up my bag.
"Daniel's choices are his responsibility. I'm not going to protect him from the consequences."
As I reached the door, Patricia called my name.
I turned.
She was holding a tissue in both hands.
"There is something else."
Rebecca stood.
"What?"
Patricia swallowed.
"Daniel didn't act alone when he prepared those documents."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Who helped him?"
She stared down at the floor.
Then she whispered a name.
"Vanessa Reed."
Daniel's mistress.
The woman who had sent me screenshots.
The woman who claimed she wanted to tell me the truth.
May you like
Patricia looked up, her face streaked with tears.
"And Evelyn, if Vanessa knows you're pregnant, she'll do anything to make sure Daniel never finds out why."
Related Stories
