“Do not go into that room alone,” Thomas told me over the phone. “We are ready to move, but I need your permission to open the secret bank files.”
I stood still by the elevator. “What are you doing, Thomas?”
“Four months ago, my team found missing money in the family trust that pays for the Adams Group,” Thomas said fast. “I did not tell you because you asked me to stay out of your marriage, but tonight, Christopher wants to sign a contract using your money as a promise.”
My sadness turned into pure fear. “I never said he could use my money.”
“I know you didn’t,” Thomas said angrily. “That is why I have auditors, experts, and a judge’s order waiting, so stay there for two minutes.”
Brenda tried to look at her tablet, but her hands were shaking badly. Then, the manager of the hotel walked over with two big security guards.
“Mrs. Harrington Roberts,” the manager said with a respectful bow, “we are very sorry for this mistake, and the private elevator is ready for you.”
Brenda’s face went totally white. “But her name is Roberts.”
“It is my name too,” I said as I walked past her.
I held Emily in my arms inside the elevator, and she put her head on my shoulder. “Mommy, did Daddy hide us because we are poor?”
I had to swallow hard before I could say anything. “We are not poor, my love, but even if we were, nobody has the right to be ashamed of us.”
The big room on the thirtieth floor looked like a luxury magazine picture with white flowers, crystal lights, violin players, and a big screen with the Adams Group logo. Reporters, politicians, and businesspeople filled the room.
Christopher was standing right in the middle.
He wore a beautiful blue tuxedo and a bright smile I had not seen at home in years. To his right was Madeline Sinclair in a red dress and a green necklace, and a ten-year-old boy held his other hand.
Christopher raised his glass to make a toast. “This deal is not just for business growth, because it is the future that Madeline, Jackson, and I will build as a family.”
Everyone in the room clapped loudly.
Emily held my coat tightly as I walked between the tables.
People started whispering when a man recognized me from the old photos Christopher kept in his office. His old mother, Beatrice, stood up quickly.
“What are you doing here?” Beatrice whispered angrily, grabbing my arm. “We told you not to come tonight.”
“You did not ask me anything, Beatrice,” I said loudly. “You just lied to me.”
Christopher turned around and saw me, and his face turned gray. “Abigail, please, we can talk about this downstairs.”
Emily let go of my hand, walked to the front table, and put her glittery box right in front of him. “I made this for you, Daddy, but the lady downstairs said Jackson is the only son you want.”
The whole room went completely silent.
Christopher looked at the cameras, then at the rich investors, and then down at his daughter. “This is not the time for a kid’s tantrum, Emily.”
That cold sentence broke the very last piece of my heart.
Madeline looked confused and turned to Christopher. “Christopher, you told me this girl was just the child of a crazy ex-girlfriend from college.”
“Be quiet, Madeline,” Christopher muttered, wiping sweat from his face.
Just then, my phone buzzed with a text from Thomas: Look at the big screen, page seventeen of the contract.
The lawyer on stage put the contract up on the big screen. On page seventeen, there was a paper saying my family trust promised to pay one hundred and twenty million dollars if Christopher failed.
My full name was written at the bottom.
And next to it was a signature that looked just like mine.
I felt so cold inside.
Christopher did not just hide us, because he actually copied my handwriting to steal the money my dad left for Emily and me.
The heavy doors to the room slammed shut, the music stopped, and the big screen went dark.
Christopher took a step toward me, but it was already too late.
The doors opened again, and the one man Christopher feared the most walked into the room.
