Chapter 3 - Secrets of the Dead
The revelation hung in the air like poison. Ethan stared at his mother, feeling a sudden, deep-seated revulsion. He and Arthur had been inseparable, but toward the end of Arthur’s life, his twin had grown distant, secretive, and anxious. Ethan had always assumed it was the stress of the family business. Now, the pieces of a fractured puzzle were starting to violently click into place.
“You paid her to disappear?” Ethan asked, his voice dangerously calm. “Arthur’s child? You knew he might have a daughter, and you hid it from me?”
Eleanor crossed her arms, her diamond rings catching the light. “I protected this family. Arthur was reckless. He was prepared to throw away his inheritance, his engagement to a senator’s daughter, everything—for a penniless waitress. When he died, the problem was solved. I gave the girl half a million dollars to sign a non-disclosure agreement and leave the state. She was supposed to abort the pregnancy.”
“Obviously, she didn’t,” Ethan said, his blood boiling.
“Which means she is in breach of contract,” Eleanor’s chief lawyer, a sinister man named Vance, stepped forward. “Mr. Whitmore, if this child is proven to be Arthur’s biological offspring, she has a legitimate claim to a third of the Whitmore family trust under the terms your grandfather set. It would destabilize the entire corporation.”
Ethan looked at Vance, then back at his mother. The coldness in their eyes sickened him. He remembered the little girl, Annie, crying in the park, terrified of the cameras. She wasn't a corporate threat; she was a child. His niece. His twin brother's flesh and blood.
“I want her found,” Ethan said.
“Good,” Eleanor replied, misinterpreting his intent. “Vance has already hired the best private investigators. We will locate them, enforce the NDA, and force them into an off-the-grid relocation.”
“No,” Ethan interrupted, his voice ringing with absolute authority. “I will find them. With Clara. Your investigators stay out of this, Mother. If I catch a single one of your hounds tracking that child, I will resign as CEO, liquidate my personal shares, and tank the IPO myself. Try me.”
Eleanor’s eyes narrowed into slits. She knew Ethan wasn't bluffing. Unlike Julian, who bowed to her every whim, Ethan was a force of nature. “You have forty-eight hours to resolve this, Ethan. Before the board takes the decision out of your hands.”
As soon as his mother left, Ethan called Clara into the room.
“Tell me you found something,” Ethan said, pacing the room.
Clara closed the door behind her and pulled out a file. “The park ticket was purchased under the name Marianne Bennett. No relation to me, obviously. It was bought with cash at the booth, but the parking pass was linked to a license plate. A 2015 Honda Civic registered to a Lily Vance in a small town two hours north of Los Angeles called Ojai.”
“Lily Vance,” Ethan muttered. “Is that her real name?”
“No,” Clara said, dropping her voice. “Seven years ago, her name was Lily Andrews. She was a waitress at a cafe near our corporate headquarters in San Francisco. I ran a deep background check on Arthur’s personal expenses from that year. He was paying the rent on an apartment in her name.”
Ethan closed his eyes. It was true. Arthur had loved her. The twin brother he thought he knew completely had lived a secret life, a life cut short by a rainy night on a slick mountain road.
“Get the car,” Ethan ordered. “We’re going to Ojai.”
“Mr. Whitmore, the press is watching the hotel,” Clara warned. “If you leave, they will follow.”
“Then we don’t use my car,” Ethan said. “And we don't go as the billionaire.”
Three hours later, driving a rented, unassuming SUV, Ethan and Clara arrived in the quiet, mountain-ringed town of Ojai. It was a stark contrast to the glitz of Los Angeles. The air smelled of sage and orange blossoms.
They found the address registered to the Honda Civic—a small, slightly weathered cottage at the end of a dirt road, surrounded by overgrown lavender bushes. The lights inside were off, but the Honda was parked in the driveway.
Ethan got out of the car, his heart pounding in a way it never had during a multi-billion-dollar negotiation. He walked up the porch steps, the wood creaking beneath his feet, and knocked on the door.
For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of crickets. Then, a curtain twitched.
A moment later, the door cracked open, secured by a heavy brass chain. Lily Andrews looked out at him, her eyes wide with terror, a heavy iron skillet clutched in her hand.
“Go away,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ll call the police.”
“Lily,” Ethan said softly, raising his hands to show he was unarmed. “I’m not here with my mother. I’m not here with lawyers. I’m Arthur’s brother. I’m Ethan.”
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Lily stared at him, tears immediately welling in her eyes. The physical resemblance between Ethan and his late twin was striking, but Ethan’s face carried a hardness that Arthur’s never had. Yet, looking at her now, Ethan’s defenses crumbled.
“Please,” Ethan said. “I just want to know the truth.”
