Beneath the Secret, Behind the Tears - Chapter 4

Kiera’s suspicion was a dangerous spark. I couldn’t risk another close call. The next morning, Maria called me on my burner phone, her voice trembling.

“Mrs. Reese was asking about the new girl. She said you looked familiar. I told her you were my cousin, just filling in for the day. I think she believed me, but she’s watching everyone now.”

“You did well, Maria,” I said, my voice calm. “Here’s what you do now. Quit. I’ve deposited a year’s salary into your account. Disappear for a while.”

There was a choked sob on the other end of the line. “Thank you. God bless you.”

The line went dead. One loose end tied up. Now for the rest.

I called my best friend, Debi Frost. She wasn’t just my friend; she was a shark of a lawyer, the sharpest mind I knew. We met at a noisy downtown coffee shop, a place where no one would notice us.

I laid it all out. The secret house, the child, the five-year lie. I slid the flash drive across the table. Her face, usually so animated, became a mask of cold fury as she listened.

“Those ba**ards,” she breathed, her knuckles white as she gripped her coffee cup. “All of them. Your parents, too. Aliana, we are going to destroy them.”

“I don’t want to destroy them, Debi,” I said quietly. “I just want to disappear. I want to leave them behind with the truth of what they’ve done.”

“Leave? Aliana, you’re entitled to half of Ivan’s assets, not to mention a massive settlement from your parents for the emotional distress…”

“I don’t want their money,” I said, the words tasting like ash. “Their money is what they used to buy my silence, my compliance. It’s tainted. I want nothing from them.”

Debi studied my face, then nodded slowly. “Okay. If that’s what you want. A clean break. We can do that. We’ll prepare the divorce papers, cite infidelity. And a document renouncing any claim to the Donovan family inheritance. We’ll make it airtight.”

As we were planning, my phone buzzed. It was an email from my mother’s assistant about the “anniversary” dinner Ivan had proposed. The location was set: a private room at The Oak Room, the same restaurant where Ivan and I had our first date. The irony was so thick it was suffocating.

But it was a detail at the bottom of the email that made my bl**d run cold. Debi saw my expression and leaned closer. “What is it?”

I read it aloud, my voice barely a wh**per. “Please confirm Dr. Donovan’s dietary restrictions. The chef notes her mild allergy to benzodiazepines from her hospital records.”

Debi’s eyes widened in horror. “Benzos? They’re going to d**g you?”

It clicked into place. The dinner wasn’t a celebration. It was a trap. They were afraid that on the anniversary of their great deception, I might finally get emotional, or suspicious. They were going to sedate me, just to make sure their evening went smoothly, to ensure the placeholder didn’t cause a scene.

The last flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was some twisted, misguided love behind their actions died. This was pure, calculated cruelty.

I started to laugh. It was a hollow, broken sound that had nothing to do with humor. “Of course,” I said, shaking my head. “Of course, they would.”

Debi reached across the table and grabbed my hand. Her grip was firm, grounding. “Aliana, you can’t go.”

“Oh, I’m going,” I said, my eyes hard. “I’m going to let them think their plan is working perfectly. And then, I’m going to vanish.”

That afternoon, in Debi’s office, I signed the papers. The divorce petition. The legal renunciation of the Donovan name and fortune. With each st**ke of the pen, I felt a chain breaking. I was cutting myself free.

I went online and booked a one-way ticket to a small, coastal town in Oregon under a new name, a name I hadn’t used since I was a child in the system, before they found me. A name that was truly mine. The flight was for Saturday night, the night of Leo’s fifth birthday party. The party I wasn’t invited to. The party that would serve as my grand finale.

When I got back to the apartment, Ivan was there, humming as he packed an overnight bag.

“Just a quick business trip,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “Have to fly out tonight, back tomorrow afternoon. Just in time for our dinner.”

I knew where he was going. He was going to Kiera’s. To his son’s birthday eve.

“Be safe,” I said, my voice soft.

He ki**ed me, a quick, dismissive peck on the cheek. “I love you,” he said.

“I know,” I replied, the words a hollow echo.

That night, I lay alone in our bed, the sheets cold beside me. For the first time in five years, the loneliness didn’t hurt.

It felt like freedom. I was no longer Aliana Donovan, the long-lost daughter, the happy fiancée.

I was a ghost in my own life, counting down the hours until I could finally disappear.