Chapter 18 - Eleanor’s Missing SonGrace rejected the idea immediately.
“My mother never had a son.”
Mrs. Harris wasn’t so certain.
They returned to the mansion late.
Grace found her in the kitchen.
“Did Eleanor ever have another baby?”
Mrs. Harris went still.
Grace’s stomach dropped.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You reacted.”
“I knew she was pregnant before you.”
Grace frowned.
“What?”
Mrs. Harris sat.
“Before she left the mansion.”
Grace felt cold.
“When Charles threatened her?”
“Yes.”
“Was that baby me?”
Mrs. Harris shook her head.
“No.”
Grace stared.
“When?”
“1998.”
Five years before Grace was born.
“What happened?”
“Eleanor left while pregnant.”
“Where is the child?”
“I don’t know.”
Grace’s heart pounded.
“Did she lose the baby?”
“Eleanor wrote me once.”
“What did she say?”
“Only that the baby was gone.”
Grace felt grief for someone she had never known.
“Dead?”
“I assumed.”
Richard entered.
He had heard the last part.
“Charles’s second will might refer to that child.”
Bennett followed.
“I obtained a copy.”
Grace turned.
“How?”
“Victor had photographed it.”
The will claimed Eleanor gave birth to a male child in 1999.
Name unknown.
Charles asserted the child was adopted privately.
Grace stared.
“My mother never told me.”
Richard asked:
“Would another child affect the trust?”
“Yes,” Bennett said.
“If alive, Eleanor’s descendants would share beneficial rights.”
Grace sat.
She had gone from poor maid to possible eighty-four-million-dollar heir.
Now maybe not sole heir.
She waited for greed.
Fear.
Possessiveness.
Nothing came.
Only one thought.
“I have a brother?”
Bennett smiled faintly.
“Possibly.”
Grace looked at Mrs. Harris.
“Why would Mom hide him?”
Mrs. Harris’s eyes filled.
“Maybe she didn’t have a choice.”
They searched Eleanor’s letters.
One line in Arthur’s letter suddenly mattered.
I know what Charles threatened to do about the child.
Grace had assumed “the child” meant her.
Impossible.
Arthur wrote it in 1998.
Five years before Grace’s birth.
Grace stood.
“Charles already took one baby.”
Richard went pale.
“What?”
Grace continued.
“When my mother came back with me, he threatened to take me because he’d done it before.”
Mrs. Harris covered her mouth.
Bennett stared.
Grace’s anger rose.
“Find the guardianship records.”
Bennett did.
The 2004 temporary guardianship petition concerning Grace wasn’t Charles’s first.
A 1999 sealed family-court petition existed.
Infant male.
Petitioner: Charles Caldwell.
Mother: Eleanor Caldwell.
Grace felt sick.
“He took him.”
Bennett nodded slowly.
“The record shows temporary custody was granted.”
“To Charles?”
“Yes.”
“What happened next?”
“Adoption petition.”
“By who?”
“Sealed.”
Richard said:
“Can the court unseal it?”
“With Grace’s potential sibling relationship and inheritance dispute, likely.”
The petition was filed the next morning.
But Mrs. Harris remembered something else.
“Charles brought a baby here once.”
Grace turned.
“When?”
“Late 1999.”
“How long?”
“One night.”
“Did you see him?”
“Yes.”
Grace’s throat tightened.
“What happened?”
“Charles said Eleanor was unfit.”
“Was she?”
“No.”
Mrs. Harris’s voice hardened.
“She was terrified.”
“What did Charles do with the baby?”
“A couple came the next morning.”
“Who?”
“I never knew their names.”
Richard looked toward the old household logs.
“Visitors were recorded.”
Mrs. Harris shook her head.
“Charles dismissed the security supervisor that week.”
Of course.
Grace asked:
“What do you remember?”
Mrs. Harris closed her eyes.
“The woman was red-haired. The man wore a military uniform.”
Richard looked at Bennett.
“Can we trace?”
“Possibly.”
Then Grace remembered Aunt June.
Eleanor’s closest friend.
She called.
June answered on the second ring.
“Grace?”
“I need you to tell me the truth.”
Silence.
“Aunt June.”
“What happened?”
“Did Mom have a baby before me?”
June started crying.
Grace closed her eyes.
“What was his name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Because she thought he was safe.”
Grace’s heart pounded.
“Who adopted him?”
“A Navy couple.”
Mrs. Harris’s eyes widened.
Military uniform.
“Names?”
“David and Caroline Brooks.”
Bennett began typing.
Richard leaned closer.
June continued.
“Eleanor spent years trying to find them.”
“Did she?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“When you were fourteen.”
Grace remembered a trip Eleanor took alone.
Three days.
She said hospital tests.
“Where?”
“Virginia.”
Bennett found a result.
David Brooks.
Retired Navy captain.
Virginia Beach.
One adopted son.
Born 1999.
Name:
Ethan Brooks.
Grace stopped breathing.
Ethan.
The same name as the junior mansion employee.
No.
Different surname.
Maybe coincidence.
Then Bennett opened a photograph.
A thirty-year-old man.
Brown hair.
Grace stared.
Her mother’s eyes.
Her mouth.
Richard whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Grace’s knees weakened.
Ethan Brooks lived in Washington, D.C.
Cybersecurity consultant.
No connection to the mansion.
At least none obvious.
Then Grace’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
A man’s voice.
“Is this Grace Miller?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Ethan Brooks.”
Grace sat.
He sounded nervous.
“I think…”
A pause.
“…we have the same mother.”
Grace couldn’t speak.
Ethan continued.
“And someone named Victor Lane tried to pay me fifty thousand dollars yesterday…”
May you like
Grace’s heart slammed.
“…to swear I was Eleanor Caldwell’s only child.”
