Richard moved the conversation into the library.
Vanessa followed despite being told not to.
Eleanor placed the wooden box on the desk.
Richard did not touch it.
“Where have you been?” he asked.
“Living.”
“For thirty years?”
“People without Hawthorne money still manage it.”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“If this is some inheritance scam, you picked a dramatic way to introduce yourself.”
Eleanor looked at her wet clothes.
“I didn't choose the drama.”
Vanessa felt Adrian's hand on her shoulder.
For once, he did not defend her.
Richard opened the box.
Inside were letters, a tarnished key and an old photograph.
Vanessa reached for the photo first.
Two young women stood in front of the Hawthorne estate.
One was Eleanor.
The other was Vanessa's grandmother, Margaret Hawthorne.
They looked barely twenty.
Their arms were around each other.
On the back, Margaret had written:
“Eleanor and me. Before the Hawthornes decided who mattered.”
Vanessa frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Richard sat down heavily.
“My mother grew up with Eleanor.”
“As friends?”
Eleanor answered.
“As sisters.”
Vanessa looked between them.
Richard said, “Not biologically.”
Eleanor's eyes narrowed.
“That was the official version.”
She removed a second photograph.
This one showed Margaret's father beside a young housekeeper holding an infant.
The infant was Eleanor.
Richard closed his eyes.
Vanessa understood slowly.
“No.”
Eleanor nodded.
“My mother worked here. Your great-grandfather was my father.”
Vanessa stared at Richard.
“You knew?”
“I found out when I was twenty-five.”
“And said nothing?”
“My grandfather had already arranged a settlement.”
Eleanor laughed.
“Settlement. Such a clean word.”
Vanessa looked at the room around her.
The portraits.
The property.
The family name etched into everything.
“So you're saying you're a Hawthorne.”
“By blood, yes.”
“Then why come now?”
“Because Margaret asked me to.”
Richard looked up.
“My mother?”
Eleanor removed the first letter.
It was addressed to Vanessa.
In her grandmother's handwriting.
Vanessa reached for it.
Richard stopped her.
“Don't.”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
His expression told her he already knew what it said.
And that frightened her more than Eleanor's secret ever could.