The morning after Lucas left, Ashley stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. A sleepless night had left her eyes rimmed with red. Lucas's final words echoed in her mind: "I love you. And that's why I can't let you stay in danger."
But Ashley Blue hadn't built her reputation in the 21st-century financial world by wallowing in emotion. She splashed cold water on her face and made a decision that would change everything.
"If he thinks running away is how he protects me," she muttered, "then I'll show him I'm worth protecting."
Downstairs, Eric sat at the kitchen table, studying the business card left by the mysterious investigators.
"Any luck?" Ashley asked, hands trembling slightly as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
"I can't find any record of a Brown Investigations," Eric said grimly. "The phone number traces back to a shell company in Delaware. Whoever they are, they're not legit PIs."
Ashley clenched her jaw. "Which means Lucas was right to leave."
"Ashley," Eric said gently, in the tone of an older brother trying to protect her, "maybe it's time to step back. Whatever this is—it looks dangerous."
"Step back?" Ashley let out a sharp, icy laugh. "Eric, I've never backed down from a fight. Besides—" She gestured toward the window, where the front of her small grocery store stood across the street. "I've got a business to run."
But something felt off the moment she approached the store. The usual morning crowd was nowhere in sight. Mrs. Patterson, who never missed her 9 a.m. shopping routine, walked past briskly without so much as a glance.
Inside, her employee Jenny looked rattled.
"Ms. Taylor, we need to talk."
"What happened?"
"Mr. Coleman came by after you left last night," Jenny said in a hushed tone, glancing around as if the walls had ears. "He said... he said you're harboring dangerous criminals, and folks shouldn't shop here."
Ashley felt a chill crawl up her spine. Harrison Coleman—owner of the town's biggest grocery store—had never liked her, especially since her modern marketing tactics and sharp pricing had started eating into his profits.
"Did he threaten you directly?" Ashley asked, her voice calm—unnervingly so.
"Not exactly, but…" Jenny pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "Someone slipped this under my door this morning."
The note was short. Menacing. "Tell your boss she's not welcome here. Some secrets are worth killing for."
Adrenaline surged through Ashley's veins—the same rush she used to feel during late-night merger negotiations. Someone had just made a grave mistake: they threatened her family.
"Jenny, go home for the day. Full pay. Don't worry about a thing."
"But Ms. Taylor—"
"Trust me."
Once Jenny left, Ashley locked the door and marched straight to Coleman's store. The bell over the door jingled mockingly as she stepped inside.
Harrison Coleman was a hulking man who hadn't skipped a meal in decades. He looked up from his ledger with a smug grin.
"Well, if it isn't our little entrepreneur, here to beg for mercy?"
"Actually," Ashley said sweetly, voice sugarcoated enough to replace the candy behind the counter, "I'm here to warn you."
Coleman chuckled, the sound like gravel grinding in a cement mixer. "You? Warn me? Girl, you don't know who you're dealing with."
"Oh, but I do," Ashley replied smoothly. "A small-town bully terrified of competition. So terrified, in fact, that you resort to threats instead of improving your business."
His face turned crimson. "Now you listen here, you little—"
"No, you listen." Ashley's voice cut through his growl like a scalpel. "I've done my homework, Harrison. Your store's been operating on credit for the past eight months. This building's mortgage is three payments behind. All your supplier accounts? Overdue."
His face drained of color. "How did you—"
"I have my ways," she said, her smile turning to steel. "Here's how this goes: You stop spreading lies about me and my business. You issue a public apology. You compete fairly—or you won't compete at all."
"And if I don't?"
Ashley leaned in, placing her palms on the counter. "Then I'll bring in every resource I have—banks, suppliers, town council. By next week, you'll be out of business and looking for work. Your call."
For a long moment, the only sound was the ticking of an old clock on the wall.
"You can't do that," he whispered.
"Try me."
There was something in her voice—maybe the confidence of someone who had already taken down much bigger men than Harrison Coleman—that made him believe her.
"What do you want?" he finally asked.
"I want to run my business in peace. You do the same. There's room in this town for both of us—as long as you stay in your lane."
She turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Harrison? About those 'dangerous criminals'? I'd be careful throwing around rumors you can't prove. In my experience, the ones who yell the loudest usually have something to hide."
As she walked out, the bell jingled again. Coleman stood behind the counter, speechless.
News of the confrontation spread through town at the speed of gossip. By afternoon, Ashley's store was busier than ever. Apparently, nothing drew customers like watching someone take down a local bully.
Mrs. Patterson was one of the first to return, buying twice her usual order.
"I always knew Coleman was no good," she said loudly enough for half the store to hear. "About time someone reminded him."
But Ashley's satisfaction was short-lived. That evening, as she prepared to close up, a familiar silhouette appeared outside the store.
Amelia Grace stood at the door, perfectly coiffed hair and designer dress making her look like she belonged in Manhattan, not a dusty Midwest town.
"Well, well," Amelia said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You're quite the talk of the town today."
"Amelia." Ashley kept her voice even. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, just checking on my dear sister," Amelia said, stepping inside with her heels clicking on the linoleum. "I heard your... guest ran into some trouble."
Ashley's blood went cold. "I don't know what you mean."
"The handsome, amnesiac stranger? Lucas, wasn't it?" Amelia inspected her manicured nails. "Word is, some very serious people are looking for him. Unfortunate."
"How much do you know, Amelia?"
"Me? Nothing at all." Her smile widened. "But I can't help but wonder—what kind of trouble gets someone hunted by men like that?"
Ashley stepped closer, a warning flaring in her gut. "If you know something about Lucas, you need to tell me."
"Poor Ashley," Amelia said, dripping with false sympathy. "Always so trusting. So naïve. A mysterious stranger shows up just as you're poised for a comeback, and you think that's coincidence?"
"What are you saying?"
"I'm not saying anything." Amelia turned toward the door. "Just... in my experience, when something seems too good to be true, it usually is."
At the threshold, she stopped. "Oh, and Ashley? Be careful who you cross. Harrison Coleman is small time. But in these waters? There are bigger predators."
As her car vanished into the night, Ashley shivered. And for the first time, it had nothing to do with the autumn air.
Whatever game was being played—she was starting to realize she didn't know all the rules.
But one thing was certain:She was no one's pawn.
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当然可以.下面是**第11章"母亲的秘密"**的英文小说风格翻译,紧承上章风格,继续保持节奏紧凑,情感深刻,悬疑氛围浓郁的美式叙述方式:
Chapter 11: A Mother's Secret
The next morning, an unexpected visitor arrived at the Taylor farm.
Ashley was in the kitchen, reviewing supplier contracts, when she heard the crunch of gravel outside. A sleek black car pulled up the long dirt drive, polished to perfection. When she saw the driver, her heart nearly stopped.
Lucas stepped out—but he wasn't the same man who'd fled into the night, lost and uncertain. This Lucas moved with purpose and power, wearing a charcoal suit so well-tailored it probably cost more than most people's monthly salaries. Even from a distance, Ashley could see it: his posture was straighter, his presence heavier.
And he wasn't alone.
From the passenger side emerged an older man, impeccably groomed, silver hair combed with precision, his every movement steeped in the legacy of old wealth and ruthless ambition. Everything about him screamed Wall Street titan.
Ashley's hands trembled as she set her coffee cup down. Before she could react, the kitchen door creaked open. Her mother, Katherine Taylor, entered with a basket of late-season tomatoes from the garden.
Katherine glanced out the window—and froze.
The basket slipped from her hands. Tomatoes scattered across the floor like red warnings.
"Mom?" Ashley rushed to her. "What's wrong?"
"That man," Katherine whispered, staring at the older gentleman. "It's been twenty-five years, but I'd recognize him anywhere."
"Who is he?"
Her voice barely audible: "Thomas Blackwood."
The name hit Ashley like a blow. Blackwood. Lucas had mentioned it. If her suspicions were right...
"Mom, how do you know Thomas Blackwood?"
Before Katherine could answer, a knock sounded from the front of the house. Jack called out, "Ashley! Someone's here!"
"Don't answer it," Katherine said urgently, gripping Ashley's arm. "Please. There's something I need to tell you first."
Ashley had never seen her mother look so shaken.
"Mom, what's going on?"
Katherine sank into a chair, suddenly looking far older than her fifty-eight years.
"Sit down, sweetheart. It's time you knew the truth about this family."
"What truth?"
"The real one," Katherine said, her voice gaining strength. "Ashley, the Taylors were never just farmers. We never were."
Ashley felt the ground beneath her shift.
"What do you mean?"
"Twenty-five years ago, I worked for one of the most powerful financial firms on the East Coast," Katherine began, her eyes distant. "I was good. Too good, maybe. I specialized in hostile takeovers, corporate espionage, and high-stakes financial warfare—the kind that builds or breaks empires."
Another knock at the door. This one louder.
"I was also engaged to Thomas Blackwood."
Ashley's jaw dropped. "Engaged?"
"We were partners in every way—business and personal. The Blackwood-Taylor alliance was poised to redefine American finance." She gave a bitter smile. "But then I discovered Thomas was involved in... unsavory dealings. Money laundering. Political bribery. Worse."
"So you left him?"
"I tried to expose him," Katherine said firmly. "But he was too powerful. Too well-connected. When I realized the law couldn't touch him, I made a different choice."
"What kind of choice?"
"I stole everything I could—evidence, files, about fifty million dollars—and vanished."
Ashley stared at her mother in stunned silence. The gentle, soft-spoken woman who'd raised her... had once been a corporate spy. And a thief.
"That money funded charities. It helped me build a new identity here in Pennsylvania. I became Katherine Taylor—a farmer's wife. A mother of four." She met Ashley's eyes. "But I never stopped watching the Blackwoods. I always knew Thomas would find me someday."
Ashley's mind raced, pieces falling into place with terrifying clarity. "Lucas..."
"Alexander Blackwood. Thomas's son," Katherine confirmed. "The moment you brought him home, even with his little act of amnesia—I knew exactly who he was."
"Act?"
"Oh, darling." Katherine's voice filled with sorrow. "Alexander Blackwood is many things—but he is not suffering from memory loss. He's one of the coldest, most brilliant young strategists on the East Coast. The question is: what exactly is he doing here?"
Ashley felt a sick twist in her stomach. "You think he's been lying to me this whole time?"
"I think his father sent him. What I don't know is whether Alexander knows the full truth—or whether he's just another pawn in Thomas's game."
Another knock, this time followed by footsteps. Jack called, "Ashley! I'm letting them in!"
"What do I do?" Ashley asked, voice cracking with panic.
Katherine stood tall again, her old poise and fire returning. "You face them. Like every Taylor woman before you."
The kitchen door opened, and in walked the two men. Up close, Thomas Blackwood was even more imposing—tall, silver-haired, radiating the kind of power that could bend boardrooms and buy silence.
But it was Lucas—Alexander—who truly left Ashley breathless.
He wasn't the same man who'd kissed her under the moonlight. That man was gone.
In his place stood a predator in a thousand-dollar suit, green eyes cold and unreadable.
"Katherine," Thomas said softly, with a voice that carried the weight of decades. "You look well."
"Hello, Thomas," Katherine replied calmly. "I'm not surprised to see you. But I am disappointed."
His gaze flicked to Ashley, then back to her mother. "Your daughter's impressive. I see where she gets it."
"What do you want, Thomas?"
"What I've wanted for twenty-five years," he said simply. "You. And what you stole from me."
Ashley stepped forward. "And you?" she asked Alexander directly. "What do you want?"
For a fleeting moment, something flickered in his eyes—regret? Pain? It vanished so quickly she wasn't sure she'd seen it.
"I want the truth," Alexander said evenly. "From all of you."
Katherine laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "The truth? The truth is your father is a criminal. He built his empire on blood and corruption. I tried to stop him—and now he sends you to finish the job?"
"That's not—" Thomas began.
"Isn't it?" Katherine cut him off. "Tell me, Thomas—does your son know why you sent him here? Does he know about the shell companies? The bought politicians? The competitors who had 'accidents'?"
Alexander paled. "Father?"
"Don't listen to her—" Thomas snapped. "She's a thief. A liar."
"Who exposed your crimes. Who saved dozens of companies and hundreds of jobs," Katherine countered. "But please, Thomas, by all means—tell your son everything. Tell him about the Pemberton merger. About Senator Morrison's campaign fund. About what happened to Rebecca Chen."
The name struck Thomas like a blow. Alexander noticed.
"Who's Rebecca Chen?" Alexander asked quietly.
Thomas didn't answer.
Katherine did. "She was a financial journalist. Investigating Blackwood Group. She reached out to me, said she had proof. Three weeks later, she died in a car crash."
"It was an accident," Thomas growled.
"On a straight road. In a car that was serviced that morning. In the rain." Katherine's voice was like a blade. "How convenient."
Ashley watched Alexander as he absorbed the weight of everything. She could see it—the moment doubt entered his mind. The moment he began to question the man he'd once trusted implicitly.
"Alexander," Thomas said urgently. "You can't believe—"
"I can't believe..." Alexander whispered. "I was so blind."
He turned to Ashley, anguish in his eyes. "Did you know who I was when you took me in?"
Ashley glanced at her mother, who gave a small, knowing nod.
"Not at first," she said honestly. "But eventually, yes."
"And everything between us...?"
"It was real," she said firmly. "Whatever else was a lie—what I felt for you was real."
For a long moment, they stood in silence, separated by a kitchen filled with old ghosts and new revelations.
At last, Alexander turned to his father. "I think we need to talk. In private."
"Son—"
"Now." His tone brooked no argument.
As the two men stepped outside, Ashley collapsed into a chair, overwhelmed.
"Mom," she said, voice shaking, "what happens now?"
Katherine sat beside her, taking her hand. "Now we prepare for war."
"War?"
"Darling, Thomas Blackwood didn't become one of the most powerful men in America by accepting defeat. He's here for two things: revenge on me—and on you."
"Me?"
"You've proven yourself just like I once was. Smarter. More adaptable. More ethical." Katherine smiled, both proud and worried. "To him, you're the daughter he should have had. Not the son who's beginning to question him."
Ashley thought of everything she'd fought for—her business, her independence, her future. Then she remembered the look on Alexander's face when he realized he'd been used.
"Then we better get ready," she said softly. "Because he's not going to stop."
Through the kitchen window, they watched the two Blackwoods arguing by the car. Alexander's body language was aggressive, while Thomas looked defensive, almost pleading.
Whatever was said out there, one thing was clear:
Ashley's world had changed.
Forever.Again.