CHAPTER 13 THE WOMAN BEHIND THE MIRROR
CHAPTER 13 THE WOMAN BEHIND THE MIRROR
The message on Isabella's phone remained open.
She stared at the photograph.
Her own face.
Standing inside the Whitmore mansion.
Taken only hours ago.
The person who sent it was close.
Too close.
Someone had been watching her movements.
Someone had access to the family home.
Someone who wanted her to know they were there.
Alexander noticed her expression.
“What happened?”
Isabella slowly turned the phone toward him.
He read the message.
His face immediately hardened.
“This was taken inside the house.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
Alexander looked around the room.
Every shadow suddenly felt suspicious.
Every sound felt dangerous.
“Security.”
He reached for his phone.
But Isabella stopped him.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because if someone inside the mansion is helping them...”
She looked at the photograph.
“They already know we are looking.”
Eleanor entered the room.
She immediately noticed the tension.
“What happened?”
Alexander showed her the phone.
For several seconds...
Eleanor said nothing.
Then her expression changed.
Not fear.
Anger.
Someone had spent thirty years taking her daughter away.
And now they were watching her again.
“Find whoever did this.”
Her voice was cold.
The same voice that had made powerful executives fear her for decades.
But this time...
It was not about business.
It was about her child.
Daniel examined the photograph carefully.
“This was not taken randomly.”
Everyone looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
He pointed at the background.
“The angle.”
Thomas frowned.
“What about it?”
“The person who took this knew exactly where Isabella would stand.”
Daniel zoomed in.
“They were not following her.”
A pause.
“They were waiting for her.”
The realization made everyone uncomfortable.
Because it meant the person had planned everything.
They knew Isabella would return.
They knew the family would uncover the truth.
They knew the perfect moment to strike.
Meanwhile...
At the Vale penthouse...
Charlotte Whitmore watched the news.
Every television channel was showing the same story.
The missing daughter of the Whitmore family had returned.
The world now knew Lily Whitmore was alive.
Charlotte sat silently.
Adrian stood behind her.
“You should be happy.”
Charlotte looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because your sister finally found what she lost.”
Charlotte smiled.
“That is exactly why I cannot allow it.”
Adrian looked uncomfortable.
“You promised me this was about the inheritance.”
“It is.”
“But now it looks personal.”
Charlotte turned toward him.
“Everything about power is personal.”
She walked toward the window.
“When Eleanor had Lily, everyone loved her.”
Her voice became colder.
“When I lost my place in this family, nobody cared.”
Adrian watched her.
“You still blame her.”
Charlotte looked at the city below.
“I blame the world for choosing her over me.”
Back at the Whitmore mansion...
Margaret sat with Isabella.
The two women were surrounded by old documents.
For the first time...
Margaret was telling Isabella everything.
“I need to ask you something.”
Isabella looked up.
“What?”
“Do you remember anything from before St. Catherine?”
Isabella shook her head.
“No.”
Margaret nodded slowly.
“That was expected.”
“Why?”
“Because you were very young.”
“How old was I?”
“Three months.”
Isabella looked surprised.
“So I couldn't remember anything.”
“No.”
Margaret paused.
“But someone else remembered.”
Isabella frowned.
“Who?”
Margaret looked at her.
“Your father.”
The words surprised her.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
Isabella had spent her entire life knowing almost nothing about him.
She was told her biological parents were gone.
But now...
Another missing piece appeared.
“What happened to him?”
Margaret became quiet.
“He died.”
Isabella looked down.
“How?”
Margaret hesitated.
“Everyone believed it was an accident.”
“But?”
Margaret whispered:
“I never believed that.”
At that moment...
Eleanor entered.
She heard the last sentence.
“What are you saying?”
Margaret looked at her.
“William's death was not an accident.”
The room froze.
Eleanor stared.
“No.”
Margaret nodded.
“I found evidence.”
“When?”
“Thirty years ago.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
Margaret looked devastated.
“Because the same person who took Lily was responsible.”
Eleanor stepped back.
Her husband.
The man she loved.
The father of her children.
Dead.
But possibly murdered.
The truth became darker.
Daniel immediately began searching old records.
Within an hour...
He found something.
A medical report.
The official cause of death said:
Car accident.
But Daniel noticed something strange.
The report had been changed.
A section had been removed.
“What is it?”
Alexander asked.
Daniel looked at him.
“Your father did not die immediately.”
Everyone became silent.
“What?”
“He survived the accident.”
Eleanor covered her mouth.
“Then why?”
Daniel looked at the document.
“Because someone reached him before help arrived.”
The room went quiet.
Someone had killed William.
Someone had stolen Lily.
Someone had controlled the investigation.
The same person.
Suddenly...
The mansion alarm sounded.
Security rushed inside.
“Mrs. Whitmore.”
“What happened?”
“The west wing.”
Everyone ran.
When they arrived...
They found the old family portrait room destroyed.
Paintings had been torn.
Documents scattered.
But one thing was missing.
The original portrait of the three Whitmore sisters.
Eleanor stared at the empty space.
“That portrait was never displayed publicly.”
Thomas nodded.
“Only family members knew it existed.”
Daniel looked around.
“So whoever took it...”
He finished the sentence.
“Was family.”
On the floor beneath where the portrait hung...
There was a message written in black ink.
Three words.
"ASK YOUR MOTHER."
Everyone looked at Eleanor.
Her face became pale.
Because suddenly she understood.
There was another secret.
A secret she had never told anyone.
Not William.
Not Alexander.
Not even Margaret.
Isabella noticed.
“Mom?”
The word came out naturally.
Everyone became silent.
Eleanor looked at her.
Because this was the first time Isabella had called her that.
A single word.
But it almost broke Eleanor.
“Yes?”
Isabella looked at the message.
“What are you hiding?”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
For thirty years...
She had protected one memory.
One terrible night.
One decision she regretted.
Finally...
She whispered:
“The night you disappeared...”
A pause.
“I saw someone.”
Everyone leaned closer.
“Who?”
Eleanor looked at Isabella.
“The person who took you.”
The room froze.
Daniel stepped forward.
“You never told anyone?”
Eleanor shook her head.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because the person holding my daughter...”
She looked at the destroyed portrait.
“Was someone I trusted with my life.”
Suddenly...
The mansion lights went out.
A phone rang in the darkness.
Everyone froze.
The sound came from the empty portrait room.
Alexander turned on his flashlight.
A phone was lying on the floor.
An old phone.
One nobody recognized.
Eleanor picked it up.
The screen showed one name.
CHARLOTTE.
She answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a woman's voice came through.
Older.
Calm.
Familiar.
“Hello, Eleanor.”
Eleanor's face changed.
“Charlotte.”
The voice laughed softly.
“After thirty years...”
A pause.
May you like
“I think it is time we finally talk.”
END OF CHAPTER 13
