Chapter 2 - THE MAID WHO WAS FAMILY
I did not believe him.
Not at first.
Grief does strange things to memory.
My mother had died two years earlier.
She never mentioned Edmund Hail.
Never mentioned Corbin.
Never said she had family with money.
She told me her father was “gone.”
That was the word.
Gone.
I assumed dead.
Corbin said Edmund had been alive until three years ago.
One year before my mother died.
“Why didn’t he contact her?”
“He tried.”
“Then why didn’t she answer?”
“She did.”
That stopped me.
Corbin opened a leather folder.
Letters.
Dozens.
Some from Edmund.
Some from Anna.
My mother’s handwriting.
The first:
You made your choice when I was born. Do not call me your daughter now because you are old and guilty.
I sat down.
Corbin explained.
Edmund Hail had an affair at twenty-eight.
Anna was born outside his marriage.
His wife, Margaret, knew.
She demanded no contact.
Edmund agreed.
He paid child support privately through an attorney.
Never publicly acknowledged Anna.
Years later, after Margaret died, he tried to reconnect.
My mother refused.
Not once.
For twenty years.
Then, late in life, he changed his will.
That was where I entered.
The sealed memorandum said:
If Anna predeceases me or declines all distributions, her issue shall stand in her place.
Issue.
Me.
I stared.
“How much?”
Corbin hesitated.
“Potentially a lot.”
Priscilla laughed bitterly.
“Tell her.”
Corbin looked at her.
“You already knew.”
Silence.
There it was.
Priscilla knew.
That explained everything.
“How long?” I asked.
She said nothing.
Corbin answered.
“At least four months.”
My throat tightened.
She had become worse four months ago.
Exactly.
Before then, she was dismissive.
Afterward:
Accusations.
Missing jewelry blamed on me.
Food thrown away and called my fault.
Rooms deliberately dirtied after I cleaned.
Comments about “girls who climb into rich beds.”
She was trying to make me quit.
Why not simply fire me?
Because Corbin hired me personally.
Not because he knew who I was.
At least that was his claim.
“You didn’t know when I started?”
“No.”
“How did I get here?”
Through a domestic staffing agency.
Reference checks.
Normal.
Then Corbin saw my emergency contact form.
My mother’s name.
Anna Carter.
It bothered him.
He ordered a background search quietly.
Found the birth record.
Then old letters.
Then the sealed will.
He had been investigating for weeks.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted certainty.”
“DNA?”
“Yes.”
I stood.
“You tested me?”
“No.”
Good.
He had not crossed that line.
He had contacted Edmund’s stored estate sample through legal channels, but he needed my consent.
He was planning to ask tonight.
Then Priscilla attacked me.
Timing.
Maybe not coincidence.
I looked at her.
“You found out he was investigating me.”
She crossed her arms.
“You were never supposed to be here.”
“Because I’m family?”
“Because you’re a problem.”
Corbin said:
“Priscilla.”
“No. She should hear it.”
Then she looked at me.
“Do you know what happens if you are Anna’s daughter?”
I said nothing.
“You inherit twenty percent of Hail Residential.”
Corbin’s property company.
Twenty percent.
Not the mansion alone.
Hundreds of millions in assets.
My knees weakened.
Priscilla continued.
“And Corbin loses control.”
I looked at him.
He did not deny it.
Current ownership:
Corbin, forty-one percent.
Family trust, thirty-nine.
Unallocated Anna branch, twenty.
If I inherited that twenty, Corbin would remain largest individual shareholder.
But not controlling alone.
He would need me or the trust.
Priscilla had been planning to marry the man whose control I could dilute.
Now her hatred made financial sense.
Then Corbin reached into the folder.
One more document.
Employment recommendation.
My staffing agency application had been flagged by someone before I was hired.
Referral source:
Vale Strategic Consulting.
Priscilla’s company.
I stared at her.
“You sent me here?”
She went still.
Corbin looked shocked too.
She had not been trying to keep me away.
She had placed me inside the mansion herself.
Why?
Then he turned the page.
Handwritten internal note:
May you like
Keep Belle close until identity is confirmed. Do not let Corbin know source.
Priscilla had known who I might be before either of us did.
