Chapter 2 - THE SECRET LOCKED AWAY FOR THIRTY YEARS

Arthur had always been the calmest person I knew.

When my father died, Arthur handled everything.

When I was struggling to take control of the company, Arthur guided me.

When people questioned my leadership, Arthur defended me.

He was the man everyone trusted.

Including me.

But now, standing in front of that woman, he looked like a man watching his entire life collapse.

“Vincent,” Arthur said quietly, “you’re really going to believe a stranger over the man who raised you?”

That sentence hit harder than I expected.

Because he knew exactly where to attack.

My emotions.

My loyalty.

My memories.

The woman looked at me.

“Your mother never left you.”

I lowered my voice.

“Then why did everyone tell me she abandoned me?”

“Because someone needed you to hate her.”

I looked at Arthur.

His jaw tightened.

“You have no proof.”

The woman smiled sadly.

“Yes, I do.”

She reached into her bag again.

This time, she pulled out an old photograph.

A young woman.

My mother.

Standing beside a hospital bed.

And next to her...

A younger Arthur.

My blood turned cold.

I grabbed the photograph.

“Where did you get this?”

“From the same place your mother hid the truth.”

Arthur suddenly moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

He grabbed the photo from my hand.

The room exploded into chaos.

“What are you doing?” I shouted.

Arthur stared at the picture.

For a second, his mask disappeared.

Then he tore it in half.

Nobody spoke.

The man I trusted for thirty years had just destroyed evidence in front of me.

“Arthur…”

My voice was barely a whisper.

“What are you hiding?”

He stepped back.

“You don’t understand.”

“No.”

I walked toward him.

“You’re right.”

My anger started burning.

“I don’t understand why the man who helped raise me is terrified of a photograph of my mother.”

The nurse stepped beside me.

“Because he knows what happened.”

Arthur looked at her.

“You should have stayed silent, Clara.”

Her name.

Clara.

She didn’t flinch.

“I stayed silent for thirty years because your threats worked.”

My eyes narrowed.

“What threats?”

Clara looked at me.

“The night your mother escaped, Arthur told everyone she was mentally unstable.”

She paused.

“He convinced doctors to lock her away.”

My fists clenched.

“Why?”

Clara’s eyes filled with tears.

“Because your mother discovered he was stealing from your grandfather’s company.”

The room went silent.

My family fortune.

The company that built everything.

Arthur stepped forward.

“Enough.”

But I raised my hand.

“Let her finish.”

Clara nodded.

“Your mother found documents proving Arthur was moving money through fake accounts.”

My heart raced.

“And my father?”

She looked down.

“That is the part you were never supposed to know.”

A cold feeling moved through me.

“What part?”

Clara whispered:

“Your father didn’t know the truth.”

I froze.

“What?”

“Your father believed your mother was sick. Arthur manipulated him.”

The mansion suddenly felt smaller.

Like the walls were closing around me.

All these years...

My father wasn’t the person who abandoned my mother.

He was another victim.

Then Clara reached into her coat pocket.

She pulled out an envelope.

“This was your mother’s final message.”

I grabbed it.

My hands shook as I opened it.

The handwriting was unmistakable.

My mother’s handwriting.

Only three sentences were written.

Vincent, if you are reading this, Arthur failed to erase the truth.

Do not trust anyone who tells you I left willingly.

The person who destroyed our family is closer than you think.

I slowly looked up.

Arthur was gone.

The front doors were still moving.

He had escaped.

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