Chương 6
Victor moved aside to let them pass.
As she walked toward the exit, she heard Lucinda speak behind her.
"You think you can walk away and this disappears?"
Maren stopped.
She did not turn around immediately.
The old instinct was still there.
The instinct to defend herself.
To explain.
To make someone understand.
She let it pass.
Then she turned.
"No."
Her eyes met Lucinda's.
"I think I finally stopped pretending it was never there."
And then she walked out of the store with the truth still unfinished, but for the first time in years, belonging to her.
Maren drove for almost twenty minutes before she realized she had no idea where she was going.
The city moved around her in familiar pieces.
Traffic lights changing.
People crossing streets with coffee cups in their hands.
Delivery trucks stopping beside restaurants.
A man walking a dog that refused to move until he finished sniffing the same patch of grass for nearly a minute.
Normal life.
The kind of normal life she had always assumed she was living.
Her hands tightened around the steering wheel.
Then loosened.
Then tightened again.
The envelope sat on the passenger seat.
She had not opened it again.
Not because she was afraid of what was inside.
Because she was afraid of how little would surprise her now.
That was the part she hated most.
The possibility that some part of her had always known.
She turned into the parking lot of a small neighborhood park and shut off the engine.
For several minutes, she stayed there.
No phone calls.
No messages.
No decisions.
Just silence.
Lily sat in the back seat, looking out the window.
"Are we at home?"
Maren turned around.
"Not yet."
"Are we going somewhere else?"
"I don't know."
The honesty made Lily smile slightly.
"Adults don't know things?"
Maren almost smiled.
"Adults pretend they do."
Lily accepted that answer like it was a normal fact of the world.
Maybe children understood uncertainty better than adults.
They just did not have as much pressure to hide it.
Maren got out of the car and walked with Lily toward the park.
The afternoon air was cooler than it had been inside the jewelry store.
The noise of the city softened.
A few parents sat on benches.
Children ran across the playground.
Nobody knew who she was.
Nobody cared about Bellamy money.
Nobody cared about a trust.
Nobody cared about a family name.
For a few minutes, she was simply a woman walking beside a child.
That felt strangely peaceful.
Then her phone rang.
Grant.
She watched the screen until it stopped.
A minute later, a message appeared.
I know you don't want to talk to me.
But please read this.
She stared at it.
Then she put the phone away.
Not because she hated him.
Because she did not trust herself yet.
A few minutes later, another message appeared.
Victor is going to send you copies of everything.
You deserve to see it all.
Maren looked at the words.
A part of her wanted to respond.
A part of her wanted to ask every question she had been carrying.
Instead, she put the phone back into her pocket.
Questions had never been her problem.
Answers were.
She and Lily sat on a bench near the playground.
A little boy nearby dropped his toy truck into the dirt and immediately started crying.
His father picked it up, wiped it off with his sleeve, and handed it back.
The child stopped crying almost instantly.
Maren watched the small exchange.
A simple problem.
A simple repair.
She wondered when her own problems had become too complicated for anyone to simply pick them up and fix them.
"You look sad," Lily said.
Maren looked down.
Children were dangerous that way.
They did not always know what they were allowed to say.
"I am thinking."
"About the store?"
"Yes."
"Was the lady mean?"
Maren hesitated.
"Yes."
"Why?"
Again, the question.
Again, no easy answer.
"Sometimes people are scared when they lose control."
Lily played with the edge of her dress.
"Are you scared?"
Maren looked at the playground.
The answer came slowly.
"Yes."
She had spent so long trying to appear strong that admitting fear felt almost rebellious.
"Why?"
Maren looked at her.
"Because I don't know what is true anymore."
Lily nodded as if she understood.
Maybe she did.
Maybe everyone understood more than adults assumed.
The phone rang again.
This time, it was not Grant.
It was an unknown number.
Maren almost ignored it.
Then she answered.
"Hello?"
A woman spoke.
"Ms. Whitlock?"
"Yes."
"My name is Rachel Kim."
Maren sat up slightly.
The name was unfamiliar.
"I work with your father's old company records."
Maren looked around the park.
"How did you get my number?"
"Victor Hale gave it to me."
That immediately made her cautious.
"What do you want?"
There was a pause.
Not a dramatic pause.
A careful one.
The kind people used when they knew words could create damage.
"I want to confirm something before someone else controls the story."
Maren looked at Lily.
"About what?"
"About your father's agreement with the Bellamy family."
Her grip tightened around the phone.
"What about it?"
Rachel exhaled.
"Your father did not leave you money."
Maren waited.
She already knew there was more.
"He left you ownership."
The words felt heavier than she expected.
"Ownership of what?"
"The company."
Maren said nothing.
The park continued around her.
A child laughed.
A dog barked.
Someone nearby opened a bottle of water.
The world refused to stop.
"The company was transferred into a trust after your father's death," Rachel continued.
"Your shares were protected until you reached a certain age."
Maren frowned.
"I was thirty."
"Yes."
"Then why didn't I know?"
Another pause.
"Because the trust was amended."
"By who?"
Rachel did not answer immediately.
Maren already knew.
"Lucinda?"
"Yes."
The confirmation was painful, but not surprising.
"What did she change?"
May you like
Rachel's voice became quieter.
"She changed the management structure."
