Chapter 23 – Eleanor
I found my mother in the sunroom of her apartment, the one I’d only discovered she had a month ago. She was watering her orchids, looking more peaceful than I’d seen her in years. That peace was about to be shattered.
“Mom.”
She turned, and her face immediately shifted when she saw my expression. The watering can trembled in her hands.
“Eleanor? What’s wrong? You look….”
“I look like someone whose father has tried to kill her twice.” I stepped into the room, closing the door behind me. “So I need you to explain to me why William Beaumont wants his own daughter dead.”
The watering can slipped from her fingers, crashing to the floor and sending water and ceramic shards across the white tiles. Ruth stood frozen, her face draining of all color.
“What did you just say?”
“You heard me.” I moved closer, my hands shaking with rage and confusion.
“Two assassination attempts, Mom. Two times someone has tried to put bullets in me, and both times it traces back to dear old Dad.” My voice cracked on the last word.
“So tell me why. Tell me why not loving me isn’t enough for him. Tell me why he needs me fucking dead.”
Ruth sank into the nearest chair like her legs couldn’t hold her anymore. She pressed her hands to her mouth, and I could see tears forming in her eyes.
“Oh God. Oh, Eleanor, I never thought…I never imagined he would go that far.”
“Go that far with what?” I knelt down in front of her chair, grabbing her hands. “Mom, talk to me. What the hell is going on?”
She was quiet for so long I thought she might not answer. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.
“You’re not his daughter.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Even though I suspected, I felt the air leave my lungs, felt the room spin around me. “What?”
“You’re not William’s daughter, Eleanor.” Tears were streaming down her face now. “You never were.”
I sat back on my heels, trying to process what she’d just said. Even though, deep down, I knew I still had to cycle through the expected questions. “But I look like him. People always said….”
“You look like me.” Ruth reached out, touching my cheek with trembling fingers. “You have my eyes, my nose, my stubborn chin. The only thing people saw was what they expected to see.”
“Then who…?” The question died in my throat because I already knew the answer. The man I’d seen her with outside the coffee shop. The man who’d looked at me with such familiarity and warmth.
“Garrison,” I whispered.
Ruth nodded, fresh tears spilling over. “Garrison Thatcher. Your real father.”
I felt like I was drowning. Like the ground beneath me had opened up and swallowed me whole. “How long have you known? How long have you been lying to me?”
“I’ve never lied to you, sweetheart. I just…I never told you the truth.”
“That’s the same fucking thing!” I stood up abruptly, pacing to the window. My reflection stared back at me, and for the first time, I didn’t see William Beaumont’s features. I saw a stranger. “How? When? Why?”
Ruth took a shaky breath. “When I married William, I was already pregnant with you. Three months along.”
The words kept coming like bullets, each one tearing through me. “You were pregnant…with another man’s baby…when you married him?”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.” She stood up, reaching for me, but I stepped back. “Garrison and I…we were together for two years. We loved each other, Eleanor. We wanted to get married, wanted to build a life together.”
“But?”
“But my father had other plans.” Her voice turned bitter. “A merger. That’s what he called it. William needed a wife to complete his respectable businessman image, and my father needed William’s money to save our family’s construction company.”
I stared at her, pieces clicking into place. “So you were sold. Like a fucking commodity.”
“That’s exactly what I was.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “My father told me I had two choices: marry William Beaumont or watch our family lose everything. Garrison…he wasn’t wealthy enough. He was just an artist, struggling to make ends meet.”
“Did William know?” My voice sounded strange, distant. “When he married you, did he know you were carrying another man’s child?”
Ruth’s silence was answer enough.
“Jesus Christ.” I ran my hands through my hair, pulling at the roots. “He knew. He fucking knew, and he married you anyway.”
“It was business, Eleanor. Nothing more. He needed a wife, and I came with the added bonus of a child he could claim as his own. The perfect family man image.”
“And Garrison? What happened to him?”
“He begged me not to go through with it.” Ruth’s voice broke completely now. “He said we’d figure it out, that we’d find a way to make it work. But I was so scared, Eleanor. So fucking terrified of what would happen to my family if I didn’t do what my father wanted.”
I felt sick. Actually, physically sick. “So you chose money over love.”
“I chose survival.” She stood up, moving toward me again. “I thought…I thought maybe William would grow to love you. Maybe he’d be a good father despite everything.”
“But he never did.” The words tasted like poison in my mouth. “He never loved me because every time he looked at me, he was reminded that his perfect wife belonged to someone else first.”
“Eleanor….”
“And now?” I turned to face her fully. “Now that you’ve finally grown a backbone and decided to leave him, he wants me dead? Is that his idea of punishment?”
Ruth flinched like I’d slapped her. “I filed for divorce six months ago. I couldn’t…I couldn’t pretend anymore. Not after I started seeing Garrison again.”
“How long?” My voice was deadly quiet. “How long have you been seeing him?”
“A year.” She couldn’t meet my eyes. “We ran into each other at a gallery opening. One thing led to another, and….”
“And you remembered what it felt like to be with someone who actually gave a shit about you.”
“Yes.”
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “So William’s losing his trophy wife and his fake daughter all in one go. That must really fuck with his precious image.”
“He’s furious.” Ruth wrapped her arms around herself. “When I told him I wanted a divorce, he threatened me. Said he’d ruin Garrison, ruin me, ruin everyone I cared about.”
“Including me.”
“I never thought he’d actually try to hurt you.” Her voice was pleading now. “I thought…I thought he’d just cut you off financially, maybe spread some rumors about your business. I never imagined he’d resort to….”
“Murder.” I finished the sentence for her. “You never imagined he’d try to have his fake daughter murdered to send you a message.”
The room fell silent except for the sound of Ruth’s quiet sobs.
I stood there, trying to absorb everything she’d told me.
Twenty-one years of lies. Twenty-one years of wondering why I never felt like I belonged in that house, why William always looked at me like I was something distasteful he had to tolerate.
“That’s why,” I said quietly.
“What?”
“That’s why I never felt at home there. That’s why nothing ever felt right.” I looked at her through new eyes. “Some part of me always knew, didn’t it? Some part of me always sensed that William Beaumont wasn’t my father.”
Ruth nodded, tears still streaming down her face. “Children are more perceptive than adults give them credit for. You always gravitated toward Garrison when you were little, before I had to stop bringing you around him.”
I remembered. Vague memories of a man with gentle hands and kind eyes, someone who would lift me up and spin me around while my mother laughed. Someone who looked at me like I was precious.
“He wanted to be part of your life,” Ruth continued. “Even after I married William, Garrison never stopped asking about you. Never stopped wanting to know his daughter.”
“His daughter.” I tested the words, and they felt strange on my tongue. “Garrison Thatcher is my father.”
“Your biological father, yes. And Eleanor…he loves you. He’s always loved you.”
I closed my eyes, thinking about the man I’d seen with my mother. The way he’d looked at me with such warmth and familiarity. No wonder I hadn’t been angry when I saw them together. Some part of me had recognized him.
“Does he know? About the attempts on my life?”
Ruth’s face went pale again. “Oh God. No, he doesn’t. If he knew that William was trying to….”
“He’d probably try to kill the bastard himself.” I could picture it. The gentle artist transforming into something dangerous to protect his daughter. “Just like Maxim.”
“Is that why you married him? This Maxim?” Ruth studied my face. “Was it really just about revenge?”
I thought about Maxim. About the way he touched me, like I was something precious. About the way he’d killed for me, bled for me, claimed me as his own.
“It started that way.” I met her eyes. “But it became something else. Something real.”
“Do you love him?”
The question hung in the air between us. Did I love Maxim Voronov? The cold, brutal man who’d kidnapped me and forced me into marriage? The same man who’d held me while I cried, who’d made love to me like I was the only thing that mattered in his world?
I already knew. We’d both admitted our feelings to each other.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I love him. And he loves me too.”
Ruth smiled through her tears. “Then maybe some good came out of all this madness.”
“Maybe.” I moved to the window, looking out at the city. “But it’s not over. William’s not going to stop trying to kill me just because we know the truth now.”
“What are you going to do?”
I thought about Maxim, probably somewhere across the city, dealing with whatever Bratva business demanded his attention. My husband. My protector. My partner in this fucked up life we’d built together.
“I’m going to tell him the truth.” I turned back to Ruth. “All of it. And then we’re going to end this once and for all.”
“Eleanor, be careful. William is dangerous, and he has resources….”
“So do I.” I moved toward the door, then paused. “Mom? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why wait until now?”
Ruth looked down at her hands. “Because I was a coward. Because I was afraid of what it would do to you, finding out that your entire life was built on a lie.” She looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “And because I was afraid you’d hate me for giving you up for money.”
I studied her face, this woman who’d raised me while loving another man. Who’d sacrificed her own happiness to protect her family, then finally found the courage to reclaim her life.
“I don’t hate you,” I said finally. “I’m angry, and I’m hurt, and I feel like my entire world just got turned upside down. But I don’t hate you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Don’t thank me yet.” I opened the door, then looked back at her one more time. “Because now comes the hard part. Now we have to figure out how to survive William’s reaction when he realizes his carefully constructed world is about to come crashing down around him.”
I left her there in her sunroom, surrounded by broken ceramic and the truth that had finally been set free. As I rode back to Maxim’s mansion, my mind raced with everything I’d learned.
Garrison Thatcher was my father. The gentle man with kind eyes who’d probably spent twenty-one years wondering about the daughter he’d been forced to give up. William Beaumont was nothing more than a bitter man who’d bought a wife and gotten stuck with a child he never wanted.
And somewhere in the middle of all this fucked up family drama, I’d found something real. Something worth fighting for.
Maxim was going to have questions when I told him. Hell, he was probably going to be furious that I’d gone to see my mother without telling him first. But he’d understand. He had to understand.
Because now that I knew the truth, everything changed. This wasn’t just about revenge anymore. This wasn’t just about William trying to send a message to my mother.
This was about a man so consumed with his own image, his own sense of control, that he was willing to murder an innocent woman just to prove a point .