Chapter 7: The Message From the Past
The name at the bottom of the notebook made my entire body go cold.
I read it once.
Then again.
Then a third time, hoping my eyes were lying.
*Natalie Carter.*
My mother.
But that was impossible.
My mother had been gone for six years.
She wasn’t supposed to be part of this.
She wasn’t supposed to know anything about Damon, Claire, or the nightmare my marriage had become.
Rachel looked over my shoulder.
“Emily…”
I couldn’t speak.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
My mother’s handwriting.
The same curved letters on birthday cards.
The same careful strokes on recipes she left taped to the refrigerator.
The same handwriting that once wrote, I love you more than anything in this world.
My hands trembled as I turned the notebook around.
“She wrote this.””
Rachel sat beside me.
“When?””
I looked at the faded ink.
The paper had been folded and hidden for years.
“I don’t know.””
I carefully unfolded the note.
The first line was short.
*Emily, if you are reading this, I failed to protect you.*
My throat tightened.
I continued.
*There are things about Damon’s family you need to know. Things I tried to uncover before your wedding.*
I stopped.
Before my wedding.
My mother had known Damon before I married him?
That couldn’t be right.
I kept reading.
*I found evidence that Victoria Hale has been manipulating people for years. She doesn’t just destroy relationships. She takes control of everything left behind.*
Rachel looked at me.
“Victoria.””
I nodded.
My mother knew her.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
I kept reading.
*Damon is not the man he pretends to be. I tried to tell you, but you were happy. You were in love. I didn’t want to become the mother who ruined her daughter’s future because of a suspicion.*
A tear fell onto the page.
Because I understood.
My mother had been trapped by the same thing I was trapped by.
Love.
Hope.
The belief that maybe the person standing in front of you couldn’t possibly be the person hurting you.
Then came the final part.
*If anything happens to me, look into the Hale family’s history. They are not what they appear to be.*
The note ended there.
No explanation.
No proof.
Just a warning from a woman who was no longer here to answer my questions.
Rachel was silent.
Finally, she said:
“Emily, why would this be hidden in Damon’s notebook?””
I looked at the cover.
The answer came slowly.
“Because he found it.””
“What?””
“He found my mother’s note.””
Rachel frowned.
“And kept it?””
“No.””
I touched the paper.
“He hid it.””
That meant Damon knew.
He had known my mother suspected something.
And he married me anyway.
That night, I confronted the past before confronting the present.
I went through my mother’s old belongings.
Boxes I hadn’t opened since her funeral.
At the bottom of one box was an old journal.
My heart raced.
I opened it.
Most pages were ordinary.
Grocery lists.
Thoughts about gardening.
Memories of family dinners.
Then, near the end, everything changed.
There were names.
Dates.
Notes.
Victoria Hale.
Damon Reed.
Claire Hale.
My fingers froze.
My mother had been investigating them.
A knock interrupted me.
I quickly closed the journal.
Damon stood in the doorway.
“What are you doing?””
His eyes moved toward the box.
“Cleaning.””
He smiled.
But there was something different.
Fear.
Small.
Almost invisible.
“You’re going through your mom’s things?””
“Yes.””
He stepped closer.
“Why now?””
I shrugged.
“Maybe I miss her.””
The lie came easily.
Too easily.
Damon stared at me.
Then his phone buzzed.
He looked down.
I saw the name.
Victoria.
He immediately turned the screen away.
“Work?””
I asked.
“Yeah.””
I smiled.
“Of course.””
He walked away.
But something had changed.
He wasn’t just hiding things anymore.
He knew I was searching.
The next morning, I made a decision.
I wasn’t going to investigate from the shadows anymore.
I needed someone who knew the Hale family.
Someone who knew what my mother had discovered.
Someone who had disappeared from my life years ago.
My mother’s former best friend.
The only person who attended my wedding and left before the reception ended.
Because she had seen something.
Something nobody else noticed.
Her name was Eleanor Brooks.
And according to my mother’s journal, she was the last person my mother called before she died.
I found her address hidden in the back pages.
When I arrived at her house, she opened the door.
The second she saw me, the color drained from her face.
“Emily?””
I nodded.
“I need to ask you about my mother.””
Her hand tightened around the door.
Then she whispered:
“You found the notebook, didn’t you?””
I froze.
“How do you know about the notebook?””
Eleanor looked behind her.
Like she was afraid someone was listening.
Then she stepped aside.
“Come inside.””
May you like
She closed the door.
And locked it.
