“I wish that disappointed me more than it does.
“You have spent your life asking why Diane makes everything between you and Vanessa into a competition.
“The answer is ugly but simple.
“She fears any woman she cannot control.
“She feared me.
“And when you grew old enough to resemble me in ways that mattered, she began fearing you.”
I stopped.
My throat closed.
But I continued.
“Vanessa is not responsible for the circumstances of her birth.
“Neither are you.
“The sins of parents do not become debts owed by children.
“If the truth about Richard Bell becomes known, do not punish Vanessa for being his daughter.
“But if she knowingly helps Diane harm you, do not confuse blood with loyalty.
“They are not the same thing.”
Vanessa lowered her head.
I kept reading.
“Regarding your father’s trust, I discovered Diane’s withdrawals seventeen months ago.
“I have preserved every record.
“Simon Vale has copies.
“So does attorney Rebecca Sloan.
“If Diane attempts to stop your marriage through fraud, coercion, false genetic evidence, theft, or public humiliation, Rebecca has my authorization as co-trust protector to freeze Diane’s control immediately and begin recovery proceedings.”
My mother made a small sound.
Not a scream.
Not quite.
More like something collapsing inside her.
I turned the page.
Then I saw the final paragraph.
And I stopped breathing.
“Finally, there is something hidden in my veil lace.
“Mireille knows where.
“You will understand when you find it.
“Love always,
“Grandmother.”
Everyone looked toward my dress.
Mireille Rousseau was standing near the rear doors.
I hadn’t even realized she was there.
She walked slowly toward me.
My mother whispered, “No.”
Mireille crouched beside my train.
Her fingers moved through the antique lace until she located one tiny ivory rose.
Then she twisted it.
Something clicked.
A hidden seam opened.
From inside the lace, Mireille withdrew a narrow silk packet no bigger than my palm.
Vanessa whispered, “What is that?”
Mireille handed it to me.
Inside was a brass key.
And another note.
Three words.
BELL MONT.
BOX 17.
Adrian stared.
“Bellmont?”
Simon smiled for the first time.
“You never wondered why Eleanor insisted Claire marry here?”
I looked around.
The chandeliers.
The marble staircase.
The lake beyond the windows.
The estate my grandmother had recommended shortly before she died.
“What are you saying?”
Simon took another document from his folder.
“Bellmont Estate was purchased through Eleanor’s private holding company fourteen years ago.”
My mother sat down.
Hard.
I stared at him.
“She owned Bellmont?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t I know?”
“Because she did not purchase it for herself.”
He handed me the document.
My name was on the deed.
My hands began shaking.
