Chapter 9 The Truth Revealed

# Chapter 9: The Truth Revealed

The weeks following Margot's removal from power passed in a blur of depositions, emergency board meetings, and media scrutiny. Gideon had been appointed interim CEO by a narrow board vote, tasked with the monumental challenge of stabilizing the company while cooperating with federal investigators.

I had moved into Gideon's downtown apartment—a modern, minimalist space that felt nothing like the oppressive Blackwood mansion. At six months pregnant, I found myself in the strange position of being both a key witness in an ongoing federal case and the partner of the man trying to save the company at the center of it all.

"You should be resting," Gideon said one evening, finding me at the dining table surrounded by case files. He looked exhausted, his tie loosened and shirtsleeves rolled up after a fourteen-hour day at the office.

"I could say the same to you," I replied, setting aside a deposition transcript to make room for the takeout containers he carried. "How was the board meeting?"

"Contentious." He sighed, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead before sitting across from me. "Half want to settle everything immediately; the other half are still loyal to my mother and fighting every disclosure."

I squeezed his hand sympathetically. "Any word on her case?"

"Her attorneys are pushing for house arrest pending trial, citing her 'contributions to medical research.'" His expression darkened. "The prosecution is fighting it, using the evidence of witness tampering at the grand jury hearing."

We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, both lost in thought. Though Margot had been removed from power, her shadow still loomed large over our lives. The criminal proceedings against her were moving forward, but slowly, hindered by her formidable legal team and network of influential connections.

"I received an interesting call today," I said, breaking the silence. "From Mrs. Peterson."

Gideon looked up, surprised. "I thought she'd retired to her sister's in Connecticut after everything happened."

"She did, but she's been going through some of your father's old papers that she took with her when she left." I hesitated, uncertain how to continue. "She found something she thinks we should see. She wouldn't elaborate over the phone, just said it was about your parents—both of them."

Curiosity flickered in Gideon's tired eyes. "Did she say when she could bring it?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. I invited her here, if that's okay."

He nodded, reaching for my hand again. "Of course. She's been more family to me than my mother ever was."

Later that night, as we lay in bed together, Gideon's hand rested protectively over the swell of my belly where our child grew stronger each day. These quiet moments had become precious to us both—islands of peace in the stormy sea of legal battles and corporate politics.

"I felt the baby kick during my meeting with the FDA representatives today," I murmured, nestling closer to him. "Right when they were asking about the timeline for the new compliance protocols."

A small smile softened Gideon's features. "Already fighting bureaucracy. Definitely a Blackwood trait."

"Or a Bennett one," I countered, making him chuckle.

His expression grew more serious as his fingers traced lazy patterns on my stomach. "I've been thinking about names."

"Already? We don't even know if it's a boy or girl yet." I'd insisted on keeping it a surprise, one of the few normal pregnancy experiences I could maintain amid our extraordinary circumstances.

"Either way," he continued, "I'd like to honor your parents somehow. You've never really spoken about them."

The comment caught me off guard. It was true—despite everything we'd shared, I rarely discussed my parents. Their loss remained a wound I kept carefully bandaged.

"They died when I was nineteen," I said softly. "Car accident. That's when I became my sister's guardian."

Gideon's arm tightened around me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up painful memories."

"No, it's okay." I took a deep breath. "They were good people. My father was a high school science teacher, my mother a nurse. They would have loved you, I think—especially once they got past the whole 'billionaire pharmaceutical heir' thing."

He smiled at that. "And the 'dating their daughter while she was undercover in his house' thing."

"That too." I laughed softly before growing serious again. "I'd like that—honoring them somehow in our child's name."

As Gideon drifted to sleep beside me, I remained awake, thoughts turning to my parents. What would they think of the path my life had taken? Of the man lying next to me? Of the child we'd created together? The questions followed me into restless dreams.

Mrs. Peterson arrived precisely at two o'clock the next afternoon, looking healthier and more relaxed than I'd ever seen her. Away from the mansion's oppressive atmosphere, she seemed younger, her smile warmer.

"The city air agrees with you both," she observed as we settled in the living room with tea. "And motherhood suits you, Harper. You're glowing."

I smiled, one hand automatically moving to my rounded belly. "Some days I glow; other days I waddle."

"You're beautiful either way," Gideon said, joining us with a small plate of cookies. The tender look he gave me made Mrs. Peterson smile knowingly.

After exchanging pleasantries, she reached into her handbag and withdrew a worn leather journal and a manila envelope.

"I found these among the items your father asked me to keep safe," she explained to Gideon. "After his death, I hid them as he instructed. With everything that's happened, I thought it was finally time they came to you."

Gideon accepted the items with visible emotion. "What are they?"

"Your father's private journal from his last year, and..." Mrs. Peterson hesitated. "Documents regarding your mother's past. Things even she doesn't know he discovered."

An uneasy silence fell over the room as Gideon stared at the items in his hands.

"Should I give you privacy?" I asked softly.

He shook his head. "No. Whatever this is, we face it together."

For the next hour, we pored over Nathaniel Blackwood's journal—a brilliant man's desperate attempts to understand the changes in his wife and company. The entries started with confusion and concern, progressed to investigation, and ended with devastating clarity.

"He knew," Gideon said, his voice hollow as he read the final entries. "He discovered the unauthorized trials three months before his death."

"Heart attack, they said," Mrs. Peterson murmured. "But he had no history of heart problems."

The implication hung heavy in the air.

With trembling hands, Gideon opened the manila envelope. Inside were medical reports, financial transactions, and surveillance photos—a methodical investigation into Margot's activities before and during her marriage to Nathaniel.

One document caught my eye—a medical report with my family name at the top.

"What is this?" I whispered, pulling it from the stack.

The report detailed a pharmaceutical trial from twenty years earlier—an experimental treatment for a rare form of leukemia. My father's name appeared on the patient list. His signature on a consent form looked nothing like the handwriting I remembered.

"This can't be right," I said, scanning the document with growing horror. "My father was never part of a drug trial. He was healthy until..."

"Until what, Harper?" Gideon asked gently.

"Until he suddenly developed leukemia when I was nine." The memories came flooding back—my father's rapid decline, the experimental treatments that only seemed to make him sicker, my mother's desperate search for answers that no doctor would provide.

With shaking hands, I pulled another document from the pile—a list of "research subjects" with my father's name highlighted. Beside it, a notation: "Favorable genetic response to compound MB-17."

"They used him as a test subject," I whispered, the truth dawning with sickening clarity. "Without his knowledge."

Gideon was reading another document, his face ashen. "This trial was personally overseen by my mother. Her first major research project at Blackwood Pharmaceuticals."

Mrs. Peterson reached for my hand, her eyes full of sympathy. "Your father suspected something like this. He believed Margot had been conducting unauthorized human testing for decades, long before the current scandal."

I could barely process what I was reading. "My father recovered eventually. The doctors called it miraculous."

"Because they adjusted his treatment based on his responses," Gideon said grimly, pointing to notes in the margins of the report. "He was their success story—proof the compound worked. They made him sick to test their cure."

Tears blurred my vision as pieces fell into place. "And ten years later, when my parents died in that car accident..."

Gideon was already searching through the documents. He pulled out a police report and accident reconstruction that Nathaniel had apparently commissioned privately.

"The brake lines were compromised," he read, voice tight with anger. "The official investigation ruled it an accident, but your father had recently begun asking questions about his previous illness and treatment."

The room seemed to spin around me. "She killed them," I whispered. "Your mother killed my parents."

Gideon moved to my side immediately, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "We don't know that for certain—"

"I do," I interrupted, a cold clarity settling over me. "And now I understand why she specifically chose me for the assignment to spy on you. It wasn't random. She knew exactly who I was."

"The daughter of one of her early test subjects," Mrs. Peterson murmured. "Coming back to haunt her."

"And then my sister developed the same rare form of leukemia," I continued, the horrific pattern emerging. "What are the chances? Unless..."

"Unless it was induced," Gideon finished, his expression grim. "To create leverage over you."

The revelation hit me with physical force. I doubled over, a sob tearing from my throat. Gideon held me tightly as years of pain and confusion crystallized into one terrible truth: Margot Blackwood had orchestrated the greatest tragedies of my life.

When I could finally speak again, my voice was steady despite the tears streaming down my face. "She's been manipulating my entire life. My father's illness, my parents' deaths, my sister's cancer—all to create the perfect pawn she could use when needed."

Mrs. Peterson's eyes were wet with unshed tears. "Your father feared something like this. It's why he kept these records separate from his official investigation into the current trials."

Gideon's face had hardened into a mask of cold fury I'd never seen before. "She won't get away with this. Any of it."

"The statute of limitations—" Mrs. Peterson began.

"Doesn't apply to murder," Gideon cut in. "Or to ongoing conspiracy."

I wiped my tears, a strange calm replacing my initial shock. "We need to get these documents to Director Chen immediately."

After Mrs. Peterson left, promising to be available to testify if needed, Gideon and I sat in stunned silence, the evidence of Margot's decades of crimes spread before us.

"I'm so sorry," Gideon finally said, his voice rough with emotion. "To think that my mother—that my family—caused you so much pain..."

I took his hand, forcing him to look at me. "You are not your mother. You're nothing like her."

"But the company, the Blackwood name—it's all tainted now. Built on suffering." Self-loathing filled his voice.

"Then we rebuild it," I said firmly. "We make it something new, something that honors your father's original vision and makes amends for the past."

He studied my face with wonder. "How can you be so strong after what you've just learned?"

"Because I have to be," I answered simply. "For our child, for my sister, for everyone who's been hurt. And because I refuse to let her take anything more from me—including my future with you."

Gideon pulled me into his arms, holding me as if I might shatter. "I swear to you, Harper, she will answer for everything she's done."

That evening, Director Chen arrived with two senior agents to collect the evidence. Her expression remained professional, but I could see the shock in her eyes as she reviewed the documents.

"This changes everything," she said finally. "The current case against Margot Blackwood just expanded significantly."

"What happens now?" I asked.

"We reopen the investigation into your parents' deaths," Chen replied. "And we add conspiracy, murder, and a host of other charges to the existing case."

After she left, Gideon and I stood at the window overlooking the city lights, his arms wrapped around me from behind, his hands protectively cradling our unborn child.

"When I was a boy," he said softly, "my father told me that a Blackwood's true legacy isn't measured in money or power, but in how many lives we improve." His voice broke slightly. "I wonder what he would think of all this."

I leaned back against his chest, drawing comfort from his solid presence. "He'd be proud of you. You're fighting to restore what she corrupted."

"We're fighting," he corrected, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Together."

As night fell over the city, I felt our child move within me—a reminder that despite the painful truths we'd uncovered, life continued. The past couldn't be changed, but the future remained unwritten.

"Tomorrow," I said, turning in Gideon's arms to face him, "we go see my sister. I need to tell her everything—about our parents, about Margot, about the manipulation of her illness. She deserves the truth."

Gideon nodded, his eyes reflecting the same determination I felt. "And then we end this, once and for all."