Chapter 40 - The Woman Who Stole My Mother's FaceI stared at Eleanor.
She looked exactly like Elizabeth.
The resemblance was terrifying.
Not identical.
But close enough to fool anyone grieving.
"You..."
My voice barely worked.
"You attended my birthday."
She nodded.
"You celebrated Christmas with us."
Another nod.
"You hugged me after the funeral."
A tear rolled down her cheek.
"I'm sorry."
I couldn't understand.
"Who are you?"
She reached into her coat.
Removing an old passport.
Name:
Eleanor Brooks.
Occupation:
Former stage actress.
Claire's investigation had mentioned her once.
A woman famous for impersonating historical figures.
She disappeared eleven years ago.
Now...
She stood in front of me.
Wearing my mother's face.
"Why?"
I whispered.
Eleanor looked toward the ocean.
"Because your real mother asked me to."
Everything inside me froze.
"No."
"She did."
"Elizabeth knew she would disappear."
"So she hired me."
"To protect you."
I stepped backward.
"Protect me from what?"
Eleanor's expression changed.
"From your father."
"No."
I shook my head.
"My father loved her."
Eleanor closed her eyes.
"So she wanted you to believe."
She handed me a leather journal.
Elizabeth's handwriting covered every page.
I recognized it immediately.
The first entry was dated eleven years earlier.
If Jonathan ever discovers Project HEIR is still active... none of us will survive.
I turned another page.
Another.
Then stopped.
One sentence had been underlined three times.
The most dangerous person in our family isn't Michael.
My hands trembled.
I continued reading.
It isn't Adrian either.
The next page contained only four words.
It's my own husband.
I looked at Eleanor.
"No."
She nodded sadly.
"She spent years collecting evidence."
"Against Jonathan."
Before I could ask another question...
A gunshot echoed outside.
The lighthouse window shattered.
Glass exploded across the floor.
Eleanor pushed me down just as another bullet tore through the room.
Someone was shooting from the cliffs.
We crawled behind the stone wall.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I answered instinctively.
Michael.
His voice was calm.
"You shouldn't have gone alone."
"They found you."
"Who?"
Silence.
Then he answered.
"The people your mother spent twenty years hiding from."
Another gunshot.
The lighthouse shook.
Michael spoke again.
"Listen carefully."
"Eleanor isn't the person you should be protecting."
My heart raced.
"Then who?"
A pause.
Then seven words that changed everything.
"Your real mother is already inside your house."
The call disconnected.
I looked toward Eleanor.
She had gone completely pale.
Claire called at the exact same moment.
Her voice was frantic.
"Come home!"
"What happened?"
She struggled to breathe.
"The security cameras..."
"What about them?"
Claire whispered,
"Your mother just walked through the front door."
I froze.
Because I was staring at Eleanor...
Yet according to the cameras...
Elizabeth Whitmore had somehow returned home.
And this time...
She wasn't alone.
Someone was holding her hand.
A little girl.
May you like
About six years old.
With my mother's unmistakable blue eyes.
