Chapter 7 - The Daughter Nobody Knew Existed
Damon Moretti had built his life around controlling his emotions.
Anger was expensive.
Fear was dangerous.
Grief was private.
But hearing that his sister had secretly married Richard Ashcroft stripped twenty years of discipline from his face.
“That's impossible.”
Margaret shook her head.
“It's true.”
“Isabelle was nineteen when she left Chicago. My father told us she moved to Europe.”
“She did. For a while.”
Damon stared at the photograph.
“Then she came back?”
Margaret nodded.
“She came back pregnant.”
Charlotte looked at the baby.
“Who is the child?”
Margaret's expression tightened.
“I don't know what happened to her.”
Damon turned toward Adrian.
“Find everything on Isabelle's movements between 1998 and 2002.”
Adrian was already reaching for his phone.
Charlotte studied the photograph.
The baby was wrapped in a white blanket.
A tiny silver bracelet circled her wrist.
Something about the image bothered her.
She couldn't explain why.
Then she noticed a detail.
A small embroidered flower on the blanket.
She had seen that flower before.
On a scarf Vivienne Ashcroft wore at the gala.
Charlotte looked up.
“Damon.”
He turned.
“Richard Ashcroft has a daughter.”
“Vivienne.”
“How old is she?”
“Twenty-seven.”
Charlotte stared at the photograph.
The dates aligned.
Damon understood immediately.
“You think Vivienne is Isabelle's child.”
“I think we need to find out.”
For the first time since meeting Charlotte, Damon looked genuinely shaken.
If Vivienne was Isabelle's daughter, she was his niece.
And Richard Ashcroft had concealed that relationship for decades.
The next morning, Damon requested a private meeting with Richard.
Richard arrived at Moretti Holdings wearing an expensive navy suit and the expression of a man who considered every room his property.
“Damon.”
“Richard.”
They did not shake hands.
Richard sat.
“I understand there's been some unpleasantness involving Preston Cole.”
Damon remained standing.
“I'm not here to discuss Preston.”
Richard smiled.
“Then what?”
“Isabelle.”
The smile vanished.
For a moment, Richard looked genuinely old.
Then he recovered.
“I haven't heard that name in years.”
“That's interesting.”
“Why?”
“Because I understand you married her.”
Richard's jaw tightened.
“Who told you that?”
Damon leaned forward.
“Did you?”
Richard looked toward the door.
Damon noticed.
“You're not leaving until we've finished this conversation.”
Richard gave a cold laugh.
“Careful.”
Damon's expression did not change.
“Answer the question.”
Richard sat back.
“Yes.”
Silence.
Damon's voice became almost inaudible.
“Where is she?”
Richard looked away.
“Dead.”
Damon felt the words like a physical blow.
“When?”
“Twenty-three years ago.”
“How?”
“An accident.”
Damon stared at him.
“Another accident.”
Richard said nothing.
“And the child?”
Richard's eyes sharpened.
“What child?”
Damon placed the photograph on the desk.
Richard looked at it.
His face drained.
“Where did you get that?”
“Answer me.”
Richard's composure finally broke.
“Isabelle wanted to take the baby away.”
“Why?”
“She thought I was involved in things I couldn't explain.”
“Were you?”
Richard laughed bitterly.
“You know what our families were doing back then.”
Damon's eyes darkened.
“Don't use my family to excuse yourself.”
Richard leaned forward.
“Your father knew.”
Damon went still.
“He knew about the marriage?”
“He arranged it.”
The room fell silent.
Richard continued.
“Our families were fighting over the North River properties. The marriage was supposed to settle the dispute.”
Damon stared.
“My sister wasn't a business agreement.”
“To your father, everyone was.”
Damon wanted to strike him.
Instead, he stepped away.
“And Vivienne?”
Richard looked at the photograph.
Then whispered, “She isn't Isabelle's daughter.”
Damon frowned.
“What?”
Richard closed his eyes.
“The baby was a boy.”
Charlotte, listening from the adjoining conference room with Rebecca and Adrian, felt her stomach drop.
A boy.
Damon had lost a younger brother.
His sister had disappeared.
Thomas Hayes had vanished.
And the Ashcroft family had spent decades hiding property records.
The connections were becoming impossible to ignore.
Richard continued.
“Isabelle gave birth in secret. She was terrified your father would take the child.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
Damon's voice turned lethal.
“Richard.”
“I swear.”
Then Richard said something even more disturbing.
“Thomas Hayes took him.”
Damon stared.
“What?”
“Isabelle trusted Thomas. She asked him to get the baby out of Chicago.”
Charlotte pressed a hand against the glass.
Her father.
He had protected Damon's sister.
And her child.
Damon asked, “Where did Thomas take him?”
Richard shook his head.
“I never found out.”
“Then why did Thomas disappear?”
Richard looked toward the window.
“Because someone found out he had helped Isabelle.”
“Who?”
Richard remained silent.
Damon stepped closer.
“Who, Richard?”
Finally, Richard whispered, “Your father.”
Damon's expression went blank.
His father had died six years earlier.
For years, Damon had believed the old man's worst sins were buried with him.
Apparently, they weren't.
That evening, Charlotte received an unexpected visitor.
Preston Cole.
He stood outside the secure apartment Damon had arranged for her.
His face was bruised.
His suit was wrinkled.
And he looked like a man who had finally discovered that wealth could not protect him from everything.
“Charlotte.”
She stood behind the partially opened door.
“How did you find me?”
“Vivienne.”
Charlotte's blood went cold.
Preston swallowed.
“Please. I need five minutes.”
She almost closed the door.
Then he said, “I know where Thomas Hayes was taken.”
Charlotte froze.
Preston reached into his pocket.
Slowly.
Carefully.
He removed a folded document.
A hospital transfer record.
The patient name had been redacted.
But beneath it was a familiar handwritten note.
T. Hayes — Transfer approved.
The destination was a private medical facility in Wisconsin.
Charlotte stared.
Preston whispered, “Your father didn't die in Chicago.”
May you like
Then he looked over his shoulder.
“And someone has been paying to keep him hidden ever since.”
