Chapter 3 - THE WATCH MY MOTHER LEFT BEHIND
I couldn't stop staring at the watch.
My mother's watch.
The tiny scratches around the face.
The worn leather strap.
I remembered it from childhood.
She wore it when she drove me to school.
When she sat beside my father at company dinners.
When she helped me choose clothes for my first interview.
She had been wearing it the last time I saw her alive.
Or so I thought.
“You said she gave it to you.”
Alexander nodded.
“When?”
“Two weeks before she died.”
My father looked down.
I turned toward him.
“You knew about this?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Alexander noticed.
“Your father didn't know everything your mother did.”
My father looked at him.
“You're right.”
That sentence unsettled me more than a denial would have.
I held out my hand.
Alexander placed the watch in my palm.
On the back, beneath the engraving, was another mark.
A tiny set of initials.
C.M.
“What does that mean?”
“My mother,” I whispered.
Alexander nodded.
“Caroline Whitmore.”
I looked up sharply.
“Your mother?”
“Yes.”
“That makes no sense.”
“She and your mother knew each other.”
“How?”
“Through the company.”
I sat back.
My entire life seemed to be filled with connections I had never been told existed.
“My mother worked with your mother?”
“Not exactly.”
Alexander paused.
“They were on opposite sides of the same fight.”
“What fight?”
“Control of Carter Manufacturing.”
My father finally spoke.
“Your mother wanted the company kept independent.”
Alexander nodded.
“Caroline wanted to absorb it into Whitmore Holdings.”
“So my mother's death…”
I couldn't finish.
Alexander's face softened.
“Your mother's death was not connected to the company.”
I exhaled.
Relief came first.
Then suspicion.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because I investigated it myself.”
I stared at him.
“Why would you care?”
He looked at me.
“Because your mother asked me to.”
Silence.
My father rubbed his forehead.
“I should have told you.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because I made a promise to your mother.”
“What promise?”
“To let you grow up without knowing how much the Whitmores wanted the company.”
I looked at the loan agreement.
“And you failed.”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
Alexander leaned forward.
“There's something else.”
He pulled out a photograph.
It showed my mother standing beside Caroline Whitmore.
Both women were younger.
Both looked serious.
Between them was a factory floor.
Workers stood behind them.
My mother wore the silver watch.
Caroline wore a pearl brooch.
On the back, someone had written a date.
Twenty-two years earlier.
“What happened that day?”
Alexander answered.
“They signed an agreement.”
I frowned.
“What kind?”
“An agreement preventing either family from selling Carter Manufacturing without the approval of the other.”
My father stared at him.
“That agreement was destroyed.”
“No.”
Alexander placed another paper beside the photograph.
“It wasn't.”
I picked it up.
The signatures were clear.
My mother's.
Caroline's.
And a third signature.
My father's.
I stared.
“What is the third signature doing there?”
My father went pale.
“I didn't sign that.”
Alexander looked at him.
“You did.”
“I don't remember.”
“That is because the agreement was amended years later.”
I looked at the final page.
There was an ownership provision.
If Carter Manufacturing ever became insolvent, the voting shares would not go to the lender.
They would go to the children of the original signatories.
My heart stopped.
“Children?”
Alexander nodded.
“You.”
“And Mason?”
“No.”
He paused.
“Me.”
I stared.
“That means—”
“Caroline's son inherited a claim.”
“But you're her son.”
“Yes.”
“And I'm my mother's daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Then Mason doesn't own anything.”
“Not legally.”
I looked at the loan agreement again.
“If this older agreement is valid, Caroline's deal can't take the company.”
Alexander shook his head.
“Not without challenging the agreement.”
“And that's what she's doing.”
“Yes.”
I understood.
Mason had embarrassed me because he believed he could force my father into accepting the Whitmore deal.
But Alexander knew something Caroline didn't want exposed.
The old agreement.
A family safeguard.
Something my mother had designed long before Mason and I ever met.
I looked at the watch.
“Why didn't my mother give this to me?”
“She planned to.”
“What stopped her?”
Alexander's eyes darkened.
“She died.”
I swallowed.
“And then?”
“Your father became frightened.”
My father looked away.
He didn't deny it.
Then the front door of the house opened.
One of Alexander's security men entered.
“Mr. Whitmore.”
Alexander stood.
“What?”
“Mason is outside.”
My heart stopped.
“What does he want?”
“He says he has something that belongs to Emily.”
Alexander looked at me.
“What?”
The guard hesitated.
“A second copy of her mother's will.”
I felt cold.
“My mother left a will?”
My father stared at the floor.
Alexander's expression changed.
May you like
Then he said quietly:
“Apparently, your father wasn't the only one who kept secrets.”
