Chapter 4
My mother died when I was twenty-three.
For fifteen years, I believed she suffered a sudden heart attack while visiting our family's lake house.
My father told me she'd been alone.
He said the doctors couldn't save her.
He said there was nothing anyone could have done.
I believed him.
Why wouldn't I?
He was my father.
The man who raised me.
The man who taught me how to build a company.
The man who told me family loyalty mattered more than anything.
Now Serena was sitting across from me, suggesting he'd hidden something about my mother's death.
I stared at her.
"What are you saying?"
She looked frightened.
"Adrian, I don't know everything."
"Then tell me what you do know."
She took a breath.
"Before I left Atlanta, your mother’s former housekeeper contacted me."
I frowned.
"Mrs. Jenkins?"
Serena nodded.
I remembered her.
Evelyn Jenkins.
She'd worked for my family since I was a child.
She made the best peach cobbler I'd ever tasted.
And after my mother died, she disappeared from our lives.
My father said she'd retired.
I hadn't seen her in years.
"Why did she contact you?"
Serena hesitated.
"Because she knew your father was forcing me to leave."
My stomach tightened.
"How?"
"She overheard him talking to Victor."
I leaned forward.
Serena continued.
"She told me your father had done something similar before."
I felt my chest tighten.
"To whom?"
Serena looked directly at me.
"Your mother."
I couldn't speak.
She continued carefully.
"Mrs. Jenkins said your mother wanted to leave your father before she died."
I shook my head.
"No."
"Adrian—"
"They were married for twenty-eight years."
Serena's eyes filled.
"That doesn't mean she was happy."
I looked away.
My mother had always seemed gentle.
Quiet.
Sometimes sad.
I remembered her sitting alone in the garden.
I remembered my father speaking sharply to her at dinner.
I remembered the way she smiled whenever I entered the room.
But I had been young.
I hadn't understood what I was seeing.
Serena continued.
"Mrs. Jenkins said your mother discovered financial documents she wasn't supposed to see."
My stomach turned.
"What documents?"
"Transfers. Hidden accounts. Money your father moved without telling her."
I stared at the floor.
My father had built Carter Security into a powerful company.
But he'd always controlled the financial records.
Even after I became chief operating officer, certain accounts remained under his personal authority.
I never questioned it.
Now I wondered why.
"What happened to Mrs. Jenkins?" I asked.
"She moved to Charlotte."
"Do you have her number?"
Serena nodded.
I stood immediately.
"Call her."
She hesitated.
"Adrian, it's late."
I looked at the clock.
Nearly eight.
I took a breath.
"You're right."
I sat down.
I was moving too fast.
I had just discovered I had a daughter.
I had just learned my father may have separated us deliberately.
And now I was being told my mother's death involved another secret.
I needed to think.
But I couldn't stop.
I looked at Serena.
"Why didn't Mrs. Jenkins contact me?"
She lowered her eyes.
"She said she tried."
My stomach tightened.
"What happened?"
"Your father told her you didn't want to discuss your mother."
I closed my eyes.
Again.
My father.
Controlling information.
Deciding what I could know.
Who I could love.
What I could remember.
I thought about the last fifteen years.
How often had he lied?
How often had I defended him?
And how many people had suffered because I refused to question him?
A small voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Mommy?"
Lily stood beside the table.
Her stuffed bunny was tucked under one arm.
"I'm sleepy."
Serena immediately stood.
"Come on, sweetheart."
I watched her lift Lily into her arms.
The little girl rested her head against her mother's shoulder.
My daughter.
I wanted to say it aloud.
I wanted to hear how the words sounded.
But I was afraid of overwhelming her.
Serena carried Lily toward the bedroom.
Before disappearing through the doorway, Lily looked back at me.
"Good night, Adrian."
I smiled.
"Good night, princess."
She waved.
Then she was gone.
I sat alone in the living room.
For the first time in years, I felt like a stranger inside my own life.
The next morning, I contacted my attorney.
Her name was Camille Brooks.
She'd handled several business matters for me, but I'd always trusted her judgment beyond contracts.
When I explained the situation, she listened without interrupting.
Then she asked, "Adrian, are you prepared for what this could mean?"
I looked toward the window.
"No."
She paused.
"But you want the truth?"
"More than anything."
Camille advised me to preserve the letters and documents.
She also recommended a legally recognized paternity test if Serena agreed.
I nodded.
I didn't doubt Lily was mine.
Not in my heart.
But I understood that legal clarity would matter.
Serena agreed immediately.
"I want Lily to know the truth," she said.
We arranged the test through a certified provider.
Then Camille began reviewing the old agreement Serena had signed.
Her expression changed as she read it.
"Adrian, this document has serious problems."
My stomach tightened.
"What kind?"
"Potentially unenforceable provisions, questionable representations, and evidence of pressure."
I leaned forward.
"Can we challenge it?"
"Very likely. But we'll need the complete records."
I nodded.
Camille continued.
"And the letter supposedly written by you should be examined."
I looked at the forged signature.
My name.
My handwriting.
Or something close enough to fool Serena.
I felt sick.
Then Camille asked something unexpected.
"Does your father still control the company?"
"He's chairman."
"And you?"
"Chief executive officer."
She frowned.
"Who controls the holding company?"
I hesitated.
"My father."
"Has he ever explained why?"
I shook my head.
Camille sat back.
"Adrian, we need to review the corporate structure before you confront him."
I stared at her.
"Why?"
"Because if he's willing to manipulate personal documents, we should understand what access he has to business assets."
I nodded slowly.
For the first time, I realized this could affect more than my family.
It could affect hundreds of employees.
Contracts.
Retirement funds.
Everything I'd spent years building.
That afternoon, I called Mrs. Jenkins.
Her voice trembled when she heard mine.
"Adrian?"
"Yes, ma'am."
There was a long silence.
Then she began crying.
"Oh, baby. I've prayed for this call."
My throat tightened.
"I need to ask you about my mother."
She was quiet.
Then she whispered, "I wondered when you'd finally ask."
I closed my eyes.
"Mrs. Jenkins, what happened at the lake house?"
Her breathing became uneven.
"Your mother was planning to leave."
I stared at the wall.
"Leave my father?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
She hesitated.
"She discovered he had been moving money from a trust meant for you."
My stomach dropped.
"What trust?"
Mrs. Jenkins sounded shocked.
"He never told you?"
I gripped the phone.
"No."
She began crying harder.
"Oh, Adrian."
I swallowed.
"Please."
She took a breath.
"Your mother inherited money from her father. She placed it in a trust for you."
I couldn't speak.
Mrs. Jenkins continued.
"She discovered Richard had been using some of it without her permission."
My hands went cold.
"Did she confront him?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
There was a pause.
Then she whispered, "They argued the night before she died."
I closed my eyes.
"Was anyone else there?"
"Victor."
My heart slammed.
Victor Hale.
Again.
I stared at the floor.
Then Mrs. Jenkins said something that made me feel physically sick.
"Adrian, your mother left something behind."
I looked up.
"What?"
"A letter."
I stopped breathing.
"Where is it?"
Her voice trembled.
May you like
"I've kept it for fifteen years."
And suddenly, I knew the truth about my family was far from finished.
