Chapter 8: The Woman Behind the Wheel
I drove to the hotel with Elise beside me and the damaged memory chip tucked inside my purse.
Nathan was waiting near the entrance.
He looked like he hadn't slept in days.
When I stepped out of the car, he approached immediately.
“Madison.””
“Don't touch me.””
He stopped.
“I understand.””
“Then start explaining.””
He glanced toward the hotel doors.
“My mother is here. She's been staying in the bridal suite with Brittany.””
“Your mother?””
“Margaret Reed.””
I stared at him.
The woman who had attended every family dinner. The woman who had sent me birthday cards. The woman who had hugged me when Nathan proposed.
The woman who had once told me she hoped I would become part of their family.
Apparently, she had known more about my biological mother than I had.
Nathan led us toward a private lounge.
Margaret was sitting beside the window, drinking tea.
Brittany stood near the mirror in my stolen wedding gown.
The sight of it made my jaw tighten.
She had altered the neckline.
She had removed several pearls from the bodice and replaced them with a decorative brooch.
My dress.
My eleven months of work.
My sister had treated it like a costume.
“Madison!”” Brittany exclaimed.
She turned toward me, smiling.
“Finally. I was beginning to think you'd skip your own wedding.””
I ignored her.
I looked at Margaret.
“Did you drive Caroline's car?””
The teacup stopped halfway to her mouth.
Nathan closed the door.
“Mom, we need the truth.””
Margaret placed the cup on its saucer.
“Richard has been telling stories again.””
“Did you drive the car?””
She looked at me.
Then at Nathan.
“Your father should have stayed out of this.””
Brittany stepped forward.
“Can someone explain why everyone is acting like this? We have a wedding in a few hours.””
I turned toward her.
“Take off my dress.””
She laughed.
“Excuse me?””
“You heard me.””
“Mom said I could wear it.””
“Your mother doesn't own it.””
Brittany touched the pearl necklace around her throat.
“Honestly, Madison, you need to get over yourself. You're making a scene over a dress.””
I walked toward her.
“Take it off.””
She raised her chin.
“No.””
I looked at Margaret again.
“Caroline was your friend, wasn't she?””
Margaret's expression hardened.
“She was.””
“Then why did you let her die?””
Brittany's smile disappeared.
Margaret stood.
“That's enough.””
“No. It isn't.””
I took the photograph of Caroline from my purse and placed it on the table.
“Did you know she was planning to report Victoria?””
Margaret stared at the photograph.
Then she sat down again.
“I didn't know she was going to die.””
“That's what Richard said.””
“He's a coward.””
“Did you drive the car?””
She rubbed her forehead.
“Yes.””
The room went silent.
Nathan stepped forward.
“Mom?””
Margaret looked at him.
“I was supposed to meet Caroline that evening. Victoria asked me to help her recover some business documents.””
“Why?””
“Because Caroline had copies of the financial records.””
I felt my stomach turn.
“What happened?””
Margaret stared at her hands.
“We argued. Caroline wanted to leave. I followed her outside.””
“And?””
“She got into her car. I was behind her.””
“Did you hit her?””
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
“I was trying to stop her from leaving.””
“That isn't what I asked.””
She looked up.
“I struck the rear of her car. It went off the road.””
Nathan stepped backward as if someone had hit him.
“You told me she died in a single-car accident.””
“I was young.””
“You were forty-two!””
“Don't speak to me like that.””
He stared at her.
“You let me grow up believing my father had done something to her. You let me marry into this family without telling me.””
Margaret shook her head.
“Victoria promised everything would be handled. She said Caroline was already dead by the time anyone arrived.””
I stepped closer.
“Was she?””
Margaret's lips trembled.
“I don't know.””
The answer was worse than a confession.
I pulled out my phone.
The recording light was still on.
Margaret noticed it.
Her eyes widened.
“You're recording this?””
“Yes.””
She lunged toward me.
Nathan stepped between us.
“Don't.””
Brittany backed away from the table.
“Mom, what's happening?””
Margaret looked at her.
“Get the papers.””
Brittany hesitated.
“Which papers?””
“The transfer documents. Now!””
Brittany rushed toward her handbag.
I blocked her.
“Those documents aren't leaving this room.””
She shoved my shoulder.
“You think you're better than me because you made a stupid dress?””
I looked at her.
“No. I think I'm better than you because I know the difference between earning something and stealing it.””
Her face twisted.
“You always get everything!””
I almost laughed.
“What have I ever gotten?””
“The shop! The attention! Nathan!””
I stared at her.
“You stole my dress, Brittany. You stole my inheritance. And now you're standing here acting like I'm the one who took something from you?””
She opened her mouth.
Margaret interrupted.
“Brittany, stop talking.””
But my sister had already reached into her handbag.
She pulled out a folded document.
I recognized the heading.
Assignment of Intellectual Property Rights.
My signature line was still blank.
Except someone had written my name in the space.
Not my signature.
A forged version of it.
I looked at Brittany.
“Did you sign my name?””
She didn't answer.
Nathan took the document.
“Where did you get this?””
Brittany looked toward Margaret.
“Mom said Madison had already agreed.””
I shook my head.
“You knew I hadn't.””
Brittany's eyes filled with tears.
For a moment, she looked like the little girl who used to follow me around Aunt Eleanor's shop.
Then she said something I never expected.
“Mom told me if I wore the dress, the company would be mine.””
I stared at her.
“Your company?””
She nodded.
“She said you were never going to sign the papers willingly. She said the public ceremony would make the designs ours.””
Margaret stood abruptly.
“Brittany, that's enough!””
But Brittany wasn't finished.
“She said if anything happened, Nathan's family would take the blame.””
Nathan looked at his mother.
Margaret's face had gone white.
I stepped back.
Two women had spent years blaming each other while secretly working together.
And now they were beginning to turn on one another.
Then the hotel door opened.
A uniformed police officer entered with another detective.
“Ms. Carter?””
I turned.
“Yes?””
The detective held up a photograph.
“Are you familiar with this woman?””
I looked.
It was a photograph of Caroline Hayes.
“She's my biological mother.””
The detective nodded.
“We've received information suggesting her death may not have been accidental.””
He glanced toward Margaret.
“Mrs. Reed, we'd like you to come with us.””
Margaret's teacup fell from the table.
It shattered against the carpet.
But before the officers could approach her, my phone buzzed.
An email from Daniel Brooks.
Subject: *THE ORIGINAL LEDGER HAS BEEN FOUND.*
I opened it.
There was one sentence.
Madison, the ledger proves that the person who ordered Caroline's death was not Victoria or Margaret.
I looked up.
The detective was watching me.
Then he said:
“There's one more person we need to speak with.””
May you like
He turned toward Nathan.
“Your father.””
