Chapter 4
I stared at the petition until the words blurred.
Vanessa had apparently been trying to send Noah away.
And someone had signed my name.
I felt sick.
"Nia, where did you get this?"
She looked at me.
"Mrs. Ellis."
I frowned.
"Our housekeeper?"
Nia nodded.
"She found a copy in the study."
I looked down at Noah.
He had fallen asleep against my chest.
His little hand rested on my tuxedo.
I held him tighter.
For the first time that evening, I understood how close I had come to making another terrible mistake.
I had been so focused on creating a perfect wedding.
A perfect family image.
A perfect future.
I hadn't noticed what was happening inside my own home.
Vanessa wanted Noah gone.
And I had almost married her.
I looked at Nia.
"Did she ever threaten him?"
Nia hesitated.
"Not physically, as far as I know."
I swallowed.
"What did she do?"
Nia looked toward Noah.
"She told him he was too needy."
My chest tightened.
"She said you wouldn't have time for him after the wedding."
I closed my eyes.
I remembered Noah asking whether I would still read bedtime stories after Vanessa moved in.
I laughed and told him of course.
But he didn't look reassured.
Now I understood why.
Nia continued.
"Mrs. Ellis told me Vanessa had begun moving Noah's toys into storage."
I stared.
"Why?"
"She said the nursery would become a guest room."
My stomach dropped.
"She planned to remove his room?"
Nia nodded.
I felt anger rising.
But I forced myself to stay calm.
Noah was sleeping.
He didn't need to wake up to another frightened adult.
I took a breath.
"Please send me copies of everything."
Nia nodded.
"I already did."
I looked surprised.
"To whom?"
"Your personal attorney."
I frowned.
"Charles?"
She shook her head.
"No. A different attorney."
I stared at her.
"Who?"
"Denise Carter."
I recognized the name.
Denise had represented one of my companies during a major contract dispute.
She was independent.
Sharp.
And completely unwilling to tolerate dishonesty.
I felt relief.
"Good."
Nia looked down.
"I didn't know who else to trust."
I nodded.
"You chose well."
Then there was a knock at the sitting-room door.
I stood carefully, keeping Noah in my arms.
"Who is it?"
A familiar voice answered.
"Marcus, it's Mrs. Ellis."
I opened the door.
Eleanor Ellis stood outside in her black staff uniform.
She was sixty-one years old.
She had worked for my family since I was a teenager.
Her eyes filled when she saw Noah sleeping against me.
"Oh, my sweet boy."
Then she looked at Nia.
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry it took so long."
Nia stood.
"Mrs. Ellis..."
They embraced.
I watched them.
For four years, these women had been protecting my son.
And I had barely noticed.
I felt ashamed.
Mrs. Ellis turned toward me.
"Mr. Marcus, we need to talk."
I nodded.
"Please."
She closed the door.
Then she reached into her pocket.
She removed a small key.
I frowned.
"What is that?"
"The key to your mother's private filing cabinet."
My stomach tightened.
My mother had kept an office on the third floor of Sterling Manor.
After her death, Charles told me her personal files had been organized and archived.
I hadn't opened most of them.
"Why do you have it?"
Mrs. Ellis swallowed.
"Your mother gave it to me before she died."
I stared.
"Why?"
"She said if anything happened to her, I should protect certain papers."
My heart pounded.
"Which papers?"
Mrs. Ellis looked toward Nia.
"The ones about Noah."
I felt cold.
She continued.
"Your mother knew the custody arrangements weren't what she'd told you."
I stared at her.
"Then why didn't she fix them?"
Mrs. Ellis's eyes filled.
"She was afraid of losing control."
I closed my eyes.
That sounded exactly like my mother.
She had loved me.
I believed that.
But she also believed love meant making decisions for everyone else.
She chose my schools.
My friends.
My career.
And apparently, the mother of my child.
I took the key.
"What is in the cabinet?"
Mrs. Ellis hesitated.
"Letters from Nia. Copies of legal documents. And a recording."
My stomach tightened.
"A recording?"
She nodded.
"Your mother made it shortly before she died."
I stared.
"What does it say?"
Mrs. Ellis looked down.
"I don't know. She told me never to open the file unless you were ready to hear the truth."
I felt a strange pressure in my chest.
My mother had been gone for eighteen months.
I had grieved her.
Missed her.
Defended her memory.
And now I was discovering she had left behind secrets that continued hurting my son.
I looked at Nia.
"Would you come with me?"
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Yes."
I turned toward Mrs. Ellis.
"Can you stay with Noah?"
Her face softened.
"Of course."
I gently placed him on the sofa.
Mrs. Ellis covered him with a blanket.
I kissed his forehead.
Then Nia and I left the sitting room.
We walked through the quiet hallway.
The wedding guests had mostly disappeared.
Music no longer played.
The crystal chandeliers still glittered above us.
But the celebration was over.
We climbed the staircase toward my mother's office.
Every step felt heavy.
Nia walked beside me.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then I said, "I used to think you left because you didn't want this life."
She looked at me.
"What life?"
I swallowed.
"The wealth. The expectations. The family pressure."
She gave a sad smile.
"Marcus, I never wanted your money."
I looked at her.
"I know that now."
She stopped walking.
"No. I don't think you do."
I turned.
Her eyes filled.
"I wanted you."
My heart tightened.
"And our baby."
I couldn't speak.
She continued.
"I wanted a small house. A job. A family. I didn't need chandeliers or expensive cars."
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"But your mother convinced you that love wasn't enough."
I closed my eyes.
"She did."
Nia shook her head.
"No, Marcus."
I looked at her.
"She pressured you. But you made the choice."
Those words hurt.
Because they were true.
I nodded slowly.
"You're right."
She wiped her cheeks.
"I need you to understand that."
"I do."
We reached the third floor.
I unlocked my mother's office.
The room smelled faintly of old books.
Her portrait hung above the fireplace.
I stared at it.
For a moment, I felt like a child again.
Then I walked toward the filing cabinet.
I inserted the key.
It turned.
Inside were several folders.
One was labeled NOAH.
My hands trembled.
I opened it.
There were letters.
Legal documents.
And a small digital recorder.
I picked it up.
Nia stood beside me.
"Are you ready?" she whispered.
I took a breath.
Then pressed play.
My mother's voice filled the room.
"Marcus, if you're hearing this, it means I failed to keep the family together."
I froze.
Her voice continued.
"There is something you need to know about Nia and the day Noah was born."
My heart pounded.
Then she said something that made my knees weaken.
"I told you Nia abandoned your son."
A pause.
"That was a lie."
May you like
I stared at the recorder.
And for the first time, I heard my mother confess that she had deliberately separated our family.
