Chapter 5 - MY MOTHER'S VERSION OF LOVE
Victoria agreed to come to the hotel.
She arrived precisely at ten the next morning wearing camel wool and pearls.
No Harold.
No security.
Just my mother.
Mara stood beside the windows.
The boys were in another room with a private tutor and two guards.
Victoria looked at Mara first.
“You look tired.”
Mara’s expression hardened.
“Raising four children alone does that.”
My mother ignored the accusation.
She turned to me.
“You confirmed paternity?”
“Yes.”
Victoria exhaled.
Not surprised.
That answer told me everything.
“You knew they were mine.”
“I believed they probably were.”
“Probably?”
My voice rose.
“You stole six years from me over probably?”
She remained calm.
“You were twenty-five.”
“You were being prepared to inherit a multinational company.”
“The Cartwright merger was already being discussed.”
“Mara had no family connections.”
“No fortune.”
“No protection.”
Mara stepped forward.
“So you decided I wasn’t worthy of having your grandchildren?”
Victoria looked almost offended.
“This was never about worth.”
“It was about survival.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Whose survival?”
“The Whitakers.”
There it was.
The family religion.
The name.
The business.
The legacy.
Victoria turned toward me.
“Your father had just been diagnosed.”
I froze.
“What diagnosis?”
She hesitated.
“Early-onset degenerative neurological disease.”
I stared at her.
“My father died in a boating accident.”
“That is what the public was told.”
My stomach twisted.
“He was sick?”
“Yes.”
“And there was concern it was hereditary.”
Mara paled.
“The boys?”
Victoria shook her head.
“Testing later showed the condition was not genetically linked in the way doctors initially feared.”
“Later?”
My voice turned cold.
“How much later?”
“Approximately eighteen months.”
I stared at her.
“You knew the boys were healthy possibilities eighteen months after they were born, and you still kept them from me for another four and a half years.”
Victoria’s composure cracked slightly.
“By then, too much had happened.”
“No.”
“By then, admitting the truth would have exposed what you did.”
She said nothing.
Mara’s eyes narrowed.
“Tell him about the custody petition.”
Victoria looked at her sharply.
I turned.
“What custody petition?”
Mara reached into her bag.
“I found this three years ago through a courthouse clerk who felt sorry for me.”
She handed me a photocopy.
The document was sealed.
WHITAKER FAMILY HOLDINGS V. MARA ELLISON.
Petition for emergency guardianship.
My name appeared on the filing.
I had never seen it.
My signature was forged again.
“What the hell is this?”
Victoria looked toward the window.
“Harold handled it.”
“My name is on it.”
“Because your standing as the presumed father made the petition stronger.”
I felt sick.
“You tried to take my children from their mother using my identity?”
Victoria finally raised her voice.
“I was trying to protect you.”
Mara laughed through tears.
“No.”
“You were trying to own us.”
Then the door opened.
My security chief entered.
“Mr. Whitaker, there’s something you need to see.”
He placed a tablet on the table.
May you like
Harold Vance had just withdrawn thirty-two million dollars from a Whitaker family trust.
And he was trying to leave the country.
