Chapter 8: The Mother Who Survived
I couldn't move.
The photograph shook between my fingers.
My mother was alive.
Alive after the night everyone had told me she died.
Alive while I grew up believing I had lost her.
Alive while Pearl took over my home.
Alive while my father built a story around her death.
Jack stared at the photograph.
"Where is she?""
Pearl didn't answer.
I stepped toward her.
"Where is my mother?""
Pearl looked at the floor.
"She's dead now.""
My chest tightened.
"When?""
"Six years ago.""
"How?""
Pearl swallowed.
"She died believing you were safe.""
I laughed bitterly.
"Safe?""
I pointed at my ankle.
"Look at me.""
Pearl cried.
"I know.""
"You don't get to say you protected me.""
"I know.""
"Where was she?""
Pearl looked at Clara.
"With her.""
Clara stepped into the room.
"My mother took care of me.""
I stared.
"You knew her?""
Clara nodded.
"She found me after Victor abandoned me.""
Pearl closed her eyes.
"Your mother found my daughter.""
I couldn't understand.
"Then why didn't she find me?""
"She tried.""
"Why didn't she come?""
Pearl finally looked at me.
"Because your father threatened her.""
I shook my head.
"He was dead.""
"Before he died, he built enough leverage to control everyone around him.""
Daniel stepped forward.
"Your father had recordings, contracts, bank accounts. He had people everywhere.""
I looked at him.
"And my mother?""
"She went into hiding.""
"Why?""
"Because Victor convinced her that if she came back, you would be killed.""
Victor.
Always Victor.
I looked toward the hallway.
"Where is he?""
Pearl's face changed.
"He's gone.""
Jack checked the window.
"No.""
He looked down.
A black sedan was speeding away from the house.
"He's running.""
Daniel grabbed the ledger.
"Then we need to leave too.""
I shook my head.
"Not until I know everything.""
Jack looked at me.
"Pam.""
"I spent twenty years believing my mother abandoned me.""
My voice broke.
"I need to know why.""
Pearl came closer.
"She didn't.""
"Then prove it.""
Pearl nodded.
"There is another recording.""
Daniel looked at her.
"Where?""
"In the basement.""
Jack frowned.
"Why didn't you tell us?""
"Because your father buried it.""
We went downstairs.
The basement was dark and cold.
Pearl led us to the far wall.
She removed three bricks.
Behind them was a metal box.
She pulled it out.
Inside were letters.
Dozens of them.
All addressed to me.
My hands trembled.
"These are from my mother.""
Pearl nodded.
"She wrote one every month.""
I opened the first.
My sweet Pamela,
Today you turned nine.
I stopped.
My eyes filled.
The next letter.
Today you started school.
Another.
Today you turned thirteen.
Another.
Today you became a woman.
I couldn't breathe.
"Why didn't I receive these?""
Pearl looked at me.
"Your father intercepted them.""
"But he was dead when I was sixteen.""
"By then, Victor had them.""
I looked at Clara.
"How?""
Clara answered.
"He wanted you dependent on him.""
Jack clenched his fists.
"He wanted control of the trust.""
"Yes.""
I looked at the letters.
"Why did Pearl help him?""
Pearl whispered, "Because I thought I could get Clara back.""
Clara looked away.
"She believed Victor would release me.""
"He never did.""
"No.""
Pearl touched one of the letters.
"Your mother knew.""
I looked at her.
"What?""
"She knew Victor had your letters.""
"How?""
"Because she sent one last letter.""
Pearl pulled out an envelope.
It was sealed.
My name was written across it.
I opened it.
My mother's handwriting filled the page.
Pamela,
If you ever read this, then the people who kept us apart have finally failed.
I need you to know one thing.
I never left you.
I covered my mouth.
Jack put his arm around me.
I continued.
Your father wanted you to believe I abandoned you because abandoned children are easier to control.
He was wrong.
You were always stronger than he believed.
Tears blurred the words.
Then I reached the final paragraph.
There is one person you must never trust.
I stopped.
Jack looked over my shoulder.
"Who?""
I read the name.
My heart stopped.
*Jack Driscoll.*
I looked up.
Jack stepped backward.
"No.""
Pearl gasped.
Daniel went pale.
I stared at my husband.
"My mother said never to trust you.""
Jack shook his head.
"Pam, I swear—"
The basement door slammed shut.
Everyone turned.
A man's voice came through the locked door.
"Your mother was right.""
Victor.
Jack rushed toward the door.
It wouldn't open.
Smoke began filling the basement.
Clara screamed.
"He's burning the house!""
Jack grabbed my hand.
"Stay with me.""
I looked at him.
The letter trembled in my fingers.
Never trust Jack Driscoll.
And suddenly, every memory of our marriage began to look different.
The bookstore.
Our first date.
The day he proposed.
The day he cried when I told him I was pregnant.
What if none of it had been accidental?
What if Jack had known me long before we met?
What if the kindest man I had ever loved had been part of the trap from the beginning?
Jack pounded against the door.
"Pamela, look at me!""
I did.
His face was terrified.
But I couldn't tell anymore whether he was afraid for me...
or afraid I had finally learned the truth.
Then the ceiling above us cracked.
And something heavy crashed through the floor.
A black suitcase landed between us.
It popped open.
Inside were dozens of photographs.
Photographs of me.
At school.
At work.
At the bookstore.
On my wedding day.
And one photograph from the day I first met Jack.
Taken from across the street.
May you like
On the back, someone had written:
*TARGET ACQUIRED.*
