Chapter 16: The Woman in the Mirror
My name appeared on the screen.
*Eleanor Whitmore.*
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
The old phone sat in Richard’s hand, glowing like a warning.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
Then Claire whispered:
“Mom?””
I looked at her.
And I saw the fear in her eyes.
Not fear of me.
Fear of the possibility.
That was somehow worse.
“I don’t understand.””
Richard stared at the phone.
“Neither do I.””
Victoria laughed softly.
But there was no humor in it.
“Of course.””
Everyone looked at her.
“What?””
She shook her head.
“After all these years, it finally makes sense.””
My anger returned.
“Victoria, choose your words carefully.””
She looked at me.
“I spent ten years believing Richard was the monster.””
She pointed at the phone.
“But maybe we were all looking at the wrong person.””
Claire stepped between us.
“Stop.””
Her voice was stronger than I expected.
“Everyone keeps talking around me like I’m a piece of evidence.””
The room went quiet.
“I’m a person.””
She looked at Richard.
“I’m your daughter.””
Then at Victoria.
“I’m not a revenge story.””
Finally, she looked at me.
“And I’m not a secret you get to protect.””
Her words hurt.
Because they were true.
I had spent my whole life protecting people by controlling information.
And somehow, every secret I kept became another wound.
I reached for her hand.
“I’m sorry.””
She looked away.
But she didn’t pull back.
That was enough.
Richard picked up the phone.
“This message was sent from a hidden number.””
Charles examined it.
“Can you trace it?””
“No.””
Richard looked at the screen again.
“But whoever sent it wants us to believe Eleanor is responsible.””
I frowned.
“Why?””
“Because you are the last person anyone would suspect.””
A cold feeling moved through me.
Unless someone wanted me to be suspected.
Someone who knew me.
Someone who knew my habits.
Someone who knew exactly how to destroy me.
Then I remembered.
The files.
The surveillance photos.
The documents.
Someone had been watching me for years.
Not just watching.
Studying.
“Richard.””
He looked at me.
“What?””
“Who had access to my personal records?””
His expression changed.
“Your records?””
“Yes.””
“The company files. My medical information. Claire’s adoption papers.””
Silence.
Then Charles whispered:
“Only a few people.””
“Who?””
Charles looked uncomfortable.
“Eleanor…”
“Who?””
He finally answered.
“Victoria. Me. Richard.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
Everyone looked at me.
“There was someone else.””
Richard frowned.
“Who?””
I stared at the floor.
Someone I had forgotten.
Someone who was always nearby.
Someone who helped me after Richard died.
Someone who knew every detail of my life.
“My assistant.””
Richard’s face changed.
“Your assistant?””
“Yes.””
“Name?””
I swallowed.
“Rebecca.””
The name seemed to affect Charles.
“You hired Rebecca after Richard’s death.””
“Yes.””
Charles looked at Richard.
“Richard, you never told her?””
“Told me what?””
Richard looked disturbed.
“Rebecca was Daniel’s assistant before she worked for you.””
My stomach dropped.
“What?””
Richard nodded.
“I found out after my disappearance.””
I felt dizzy.
“How could she get close to me?””
Nobody answered.
Because we all knew.
I was grieving.
I was vulnerable.
I trusted anyone who offered kindness.
Richard stepped closer.
“Eleanor, listen to me.””
I looked at him.
“Rebecca may be the person who planted the evidence.””
“But the phone?””
“We need to find her.””
We left Harbor Point immediately.
For the first time in years, I wasn’t chasing the past.
The past was chasing me.
When we arrived at my house, the front door was open.
I stopped.
My heart sank.
“I locked this.””
Richard moved in front of me.
“No one enters alone.””
We stepped inside.
The house looked untouched.
Almost.
Then I saw it.
My office.
The drawers were open.
Papers scattered across the floor.
Someone had searched everything.
Claire picked up a photograph.
“Mom.””
I walked over.
It was a picture of me and Richard on our wedding day.
Someone had written across it.
*You were never the wife.*
I stared.
“What does that mean?””
Then I noticed something else.
A folder on my desk.
A folder I had never seen before.
My name was written on it.
Inside was a birth certificate.
Mine.
I looked at the details.
Then froze.
Because the signature at the bottom belonged to someone I knew.
Someone who had signed documents for my entire life.
Charles looked over my shoulder.
His face turned pale.
“Eleanor…”
I looked at him.
“What?””
He whispered:
“That signature isn’t yours.””
My blood ran cold.
“Then whose is it?””
Nobody answered.
Because beneath the signature was a name.
May you like
A name that changed everything.
*Victoria Hale.*
