Chapter 128

Chapter 128
Sheryl's POV

I left the Hayes Enterprise building with my mind made up. Now that I'd finally processed the shock of Rhett's fake death, it was time to address another wound that had never properly healed—my mother's suicide.

This was something I needed to handle alone. Rhett had his own vendettas to pursue, and I had mine. A partnership of revenge, if you will, though I wasn't ready to share my plans with him just yet.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the heavy glass door of Coleman & Associates. The leather file folder clutched in my hand contained every scrap of information I'd managed to gather about Ross Group—the company my mother had helped build before Christine stole everything from her.

Fifteen years had passed, but the memory of finding my mother that day still cut like a knife. I'd told myself I'd moved on, that I'd forgotten. But that was the biggest lie I'd ever told myself.

The receptionist greeted me with professional warmth, though I caught the flicker of surprise in her eyes when I mentioned my appointment with Aiden Coleman. He was one of Boston's most sought-after attorneys, and his time didn't come cheap. Fortunately, our history—brief but significant—had earned me this meeting.

"Sheryl." Aiden rose from behind his mahogany desk, the tailored charcoal suit accentuating his still-athletic frame. "Please, sit down."

"It's been a while," I said, working to keep my voice steady.

His eyes—always too perceptive—studied me carefully as he poured water into a crystal tumbler. "You look troubled. What can I do for you?"

I placed the folder on his desk and met his gaze directly. "I need to understand marital asset division laws. Specifically when infidelity is involved."

"Is it Rhett?" His brow furrowed immediately.

I shook my head. "No, not Rhett."

Understanding dawned in his eyes as he glanced at the folder. "This is about Ross Group?"

"Yes." I kept it brief before explaining everything—how Robert had carried on an affair with Christine while still married to my mother; how my mother had owned half the company; how Christine had forced me to sign away my inheritance rights in exchange for allowing me to study abroad when I was eighteen.

"I didn't care about any of it back then," I said softly, my fingers twisting together in my lap. "I just wanted to escape that house... those memories. But I can't let them keep trampling over my mother's legacy. That company was as much hers as it was his. She deserved better."

Aiden fell silent as he reviewed the documents I'd brought. The deepening crease between his eyebrows told me everything I needed to know.

"It's complicated, Sheryl," he finally said, his tone carrying professional caution. "While marital infidelity is morally reprehensible, it doesn't automatically affect asset division in the legal sense. And that document you signed..."

"I was eighteen and coerced!" I cut in, unable to keep the tremor from my voice.

"I understand." He nodded sympathetically. "But proving coercion after all this time would be difficult. Plus, you did receive something of value in exchange—your education abroad. A court might view that as a legitimate transaction."

Disappointment crashed over me. "So they just get to keep everything my mother built? There's nothing I can do?"

"I'm not saying it's impossible," Aiden clarified, setting the papers down. His eyes held genuine concern. "But it would be incredibly challenging. We'd need concrete evidence of your mother's ownership stake, proof of the coercion you experienced, and even then, determining the proper value attribution after so many years of company growth would be contentious at best."

I fell silent, watching the afternoon sunlight cast dappled shadows across the floor. My emotions felt just as fragmented—parts hope, parts rage, parts determination.

"I don't care how hard it is," I finally said, lifting my chin with renewed resolve. "If the legal route is too complicated, I'll find another way. That company is part of my mother's legacy, and I won't let the woman who drove her to suicide keep enjoying the fruits of her labor."

Aiden sighed, reaching across the desk to cover my hand with his. "Sheryl, I know how strong you are. But please be careful. Don't let revenge cloud your judgment."

"This isn't revenge, Aiden." I withdrew my hand and stood. "This is reclaiming what rightfully belongs to my mother and me."

He nodded, rising as well. "Alright, Sheryl. If you need anything further, my door is always open."

"Thank you."

"Does Rhett know about this?" he asked as I gathered my things.

"Not yet," I replied. "Now isn't the right time."

---

I drove straight to the Ross mansion after leaving Aiden's office. Since marrying Rhett, I'd rarely returned to this place—each visit felt like reopening an old wound. But today, I needed to face it head-on.

Walking into the spacious living room, I found Christine sitting in my mother's favorite armchair, reading a book as if she belonged there. The sight of her looking so comfortable in my mother's space ignited a cold fury within me.

"Sheryl?" She glanced up, feigning surprise. "What a rare pleasure to have you visit."

I moved to the window, pretending to admire the garden view before asking softly, "Have you been sleeping well, Christine?"

She set her book down, confusion crossing her features. "What do you mean?"

"I was just wondering," I turned to face her, wearing a thoughtful smile that never reached my eyes, "if you've been having nightmares these past fifteen years. Dreams where a woman stands watching you."

Christine's expression froze, her fingers involuntarily tightening around the book. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Strange," I said, moving closer, keeping my voice unnervingly calm. "I've been dreaming about my mother lately. She stands there, just as beautiful as she was in life, but her eyes... they're so sad. She keeps asking the same question: 'Why?'"

I noticed how Christine's breathing quickened, her complexion paling slightly.

"Do you know what date is coming up?" I continued, my gaze lingering on her white-knuckled hands. "Next week marks fifteen years since my mother died. Time flies, doesn't it? Fifteen years... long enough for some people to forget, and for others to remember everything."

"What exactly are you trying to say?" Christine stood abruptly, defensiveness lacing her tone. "If you've come here just to spout cryptic nonsense—"

"Nonsense?" I laughed softly. "Perhaps it seems that way to you. After all, the living always find reasons to move forward, don't they? Especially when they've inherited things that never belonged to them in the first place."

I approached the chair she'd vacated, running my fingers along the backrest just as my mother used to do. "I've always wondered what really happened that day. My mother loved life so much. What could possibly have driven her to... leave it behind?"

Christine's lips trembled slightly. "It was a tragic accident. We all mourned her."