Chapter 4

The world tilted on its axis.

Eleanor knew her.

Liam, seeing his mother's reaction, seemed to shrink. He lowered his hand, his rage deflating into confusion. "Mom? You know Brenda?"

Eleanor didn't answer him. Her eyes were locked on the terrified housekeeper. "What are you doing in my son's house?"

Brenda stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. She looked at Liam, a desperate, pleading look. It was a look I had never seen before, and it was filled with a terrifying intimacy.

The slap, Liam's insane defense of this woman, his mother's recognition-the pieces were clicking together into a picture I couldn't bear to see.

Eleanor was a woman of action. She pointed a stern finger at Liam. "Take me inside. Now." To me, her voice softened. "Chloe, dear, are you alright?"

I could only nod, the sting on my cheek a dull throb compared to the chaos in my mind.

Inside, the confrontation was short and brutal. Eleanor dismissed a sputtering Brenda, telling her to wait in the kitchen. Then she turned to Liam.

"You raised your hand to your wife." It was not a question. It was a judgment.

"Mom, you don't understand," Liam started. "Chloe was being disrespectful to-"

"I understand that you have dishonored this family, your father's name, and yourself," Eleanor cut him off, her voice like steel. "We will discuss your punishment later. Now, leave me with Chloe."

Liam, for the first time in his life, looked like a chastised little boy. He left the room without another word.

Eleanor came to me, her expression a mixture of fury and deep concern. She gently touched my cheek. "He will answer for this. I promise you."

She then told me something that solidified our bond forever.

"Your father saved my husband's life in Fallujah," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "He pulled him out of a burning Humvee under heavy fire. My husband was a General, but your father was the greater hero that day. I owe him a debt I can never repay. And I owe it to you to protect you. You are family, Chloe."

We didn't go to the cemetery that day. Instead, a seed of suspicion took root in my mind and began to grow. Liam's fierce, irrational defense of Brenda made no sense. Unless...

The next day, while Liam and Eleanor were out on a tense, mandatory errand, I did something I never thought I'd do. I went to an electronics store and bought a high-end nanny cam, small enough to be hidden in a smoke detector. I installed it in the living room, the main hub of the house.

I just needed to understand.

Two days later, I got my answer. I sat in my car in a parking lot a mile from my house, watching the live feed on my phone.

Brenda and Liam were in the living room. Brenda was no longer the meek, crying victim. She was pacing, angry.

"She knows me, Liam! Eleanor knows me! This ruins everything!"

"Calm down, Ma," Liam said. The word hit me like a physical blow. Ma.

"Don't you tell me to calm down!" she hissed. "Decades. I have worked for this for decades! Ever since I swapped you in that hospital nursery. I gave you this life! I gave you a General for a father, a life of privilege. I was supposed to be set for life when you inherited everything!"

My phone slipped from my trembling hands. The screen showed their distorted, angry faces.

Swapped you in the hospital nursery.

Liam was not Eleanor's son. He was Brenda's. This whole life, his entire identity, was a lie. A long, elaborate con.

"We just have to get rid of Chloe," Liam was saying, his voice cold and practical. "Eleanor loves me. She'll get over it. Once Chloe is out of the picture and I have the trust and this house, you'll have everything you ever wanted."

"And that architect bitch?" Brenda spat. "She gets nothing. She and that high-and-mighty mother of hers get nothing."

I watched them, mother and son, plotting the destruction of my life with the casual air of planning a dinner party. The betrayal was so absolute, so monstrous, it was hard to breathe.

I drove back to the house, my mind a maelstrom of horror and ice-cold fury. I found Eleanor in the den, staring at her husband's memorial case.

I didn't say a word. I just handed her my phone and played the recording.

She watched, her face a mask of stone. The blood drained from her cheeks, but her back remained ramrod straight. When the video ended, she looked up at me, her eyes burning with a righteous fire I recognized from my own father.

"That... imposter," she whispered. "Then... where is my son? Where is my real boy?"

The question hung in the air between us, heavy and terrifying.

Eleanor looked at me, her grief momentarily overwhelming her. Then, her resolve hardened. "He hit you, Chloe. He plotted against you. Are you still his wife?"

I met her gaze, my own resolve solidifying. "No. I am your son's wife. And I will help you burn them to the ground."

A silent, powerful alliance was forged in that room, built on a foundation of betrayal and a shared thirst for justice.