My Mother’s Secret
Chapter 11 - My Mother’s Secret
The forged consent form broke something in my mother.
Until then she had defended Thomas with the stubborn loyalty of a younger sister who had spent sixty years believing her older brother knew better.
Now she stared at the signature and whispered, “He copied it from the foundation checks.”
No one corrected her.
We all knew she was right.
She asked to speak with me alone.
We walked outside to a shaded terrace where the wedding cake still waited behind glass.
Three tiers.
Lemon and vanilla.
My favorite.
I almost laughed again.
“Rebecca,” Mom said, “there’s something else.”
Of course there was.
Two years earlier, when the company faced its supposed cash crisis, Thomas had convinced her to sign a personal guarantee because he claimed I was already carrying too much pressure after Dad’s death.
Mom believed she was protecting me.
She never told me because she was embarrassed.
Then, when the payments to Northline started appearing, she began quietly copying records.
“That’s why Thomas took the laptop.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
Her eyes filled.
“Because you were happy.”
I felt anger rise.
“So you let me marry Grant?”
“I didn’t know Grant was involved.”
“You knew Thomas was hiding money.”
“I suspected.”
“And you said nothing.”
She looked toward the ocean.
“Your father spent his whole life telling me the company survived because the family stayed united.”
I shook my head.
“No. The company survived because people worked there. Family unity did not build the ships. It did not load the docks. It did not make payroll.”
She flinched.
I softened my voice.
“Mom, silence is not loyalty.”
She nodded slowly.
“I know that now.”
Then she told me the part that changed my anger.
Three weeks earlier, she had confronted Thomas.
He threatened to expose her personal guarantee to the board and blame the entire financial crisis on her.
He told her she would lose the foundation.
Her reputation.
Possibly her home.
“I thought if I gathered enough proof first, I could protect everyone.”
“By yourself?”
She looked at me with the same exhausted pride I had seen in the mirror for years.
That was when I realized where I had learned it.
We both believed asking for help was something responsible women did only after everything else failed.
I took her hand.
“We’re done doing this alone.”
She cried then.
So did I.
When we returned inside, Lauren was waiting with news.
Peter Sloan had contacted the police through an attorney.
He was willing to cooperate.
But he had one condition.
He would only hand over the complete Northline records if I agreed to hear why Grant had become involved.
May you like
I looked across the room at the man who had almost become my husband.
For the first time, Grant would not meet my eyes.
