Peter's face went white.
Peter and she both jumped to their feet. Peter's eyes circled, and he inhaled without exhaling. Then he said, "Excuse me," and rushed out the door.
Whoever was here clearly intended to argue with Peter's father. Belle stayed right on his heels and followed him down a hall toward the room they entered.
An older woman with Peter's high cheekbones covered her lips. Her eyes misted as she stared at him. "Oh my God. Peter."
Peter crossed his arms and stared at the older woman. His face was white, and his hands were clenched. "What the—"
Now wasn't the time to overreact. She reached up to his shoulder and massaged his arm to get him to relax.
He unclenched his hands as she asked, "What's going on? Who is she?"
His fingers touched the bottom of his lips. "Belle, that's my mother."
The one that left him scarred and unable to trust anyone. Belle licked her lips and tried to sound calming and soft.
"Your what?"
"I'm his mother, Isabella Morgan." His mother came closer and seemed like she wanted to hug him. He stepped away. Tears fell down the woman's face. "Peter, thank goodness you're okay. You've grown so handsome. Where are your brother and sister?"
His hands clenched again. "Safe from you. How did you get in here?"
She pointed toward the door. "My kidnappers delivered me. They said Mr. Morgan expected my delivery. I thought it was your father."
"My father is dead."
A smile grew on her face that she quickly masked. "Then it was you who freed me."
Belle asked as she shook her head, "What?"
Peter didn't move. His shoulders were tight. Belle glanced out the window and saw the SUVs. "Those are Morgan Enterprise cars."
His mother wiped her eyes. "Yes, your father refused to let me get divorced. He had me transported to a compound in Argentina, where my only contact with other humans was his staff. I was so worried about you."
"You left me. You certainly didn't contact us."
The words had sounded etched in pain. Belle squeezed his arm to let him know he was fine. If her mother ever walked in the door, she'd have no idea how she'd react.
His mother's face went as white as his. "I didn't. I was kidnapped right from the front door. Your father ensured I was kept under lock and key while all my needs were met, except the most important one of all. You and my other children. Please understand."
"I don't." He then stepped out of her arms and walked toward the window to stare at the SUVs. "If you were the merchandise I had delivered to my house then you were living in a condition most people cannot afford."
His mother shook her head. "Peter, I couldn't ever leave the villa. Your father had me. I would never have left my children. You must know that."
"Why would I know that?" Peter's voice had a desperate edge that he never showed. He knew better than to show his emotions.
Belle had no idea what to say, but this story sounded believable. Peter had told her plenty about Mitch. She swallowed and wanted to know how to help.
Peter's entire body was stiff. "I saw you walk out the door."
His mother's eye widened. "What?"
Peter kept his head high, but his words held fury. "You and Dad fought. Then you stormed out the door and never came back."
His mother took a step toward him. "I went to get air that night. I needed to pack your things to take you with me. I wanted a divorce."
"I don't believe you." He avoided her touch, but returned to Belle's side.
"Your father cheated on me and then refused to let me go. He was a horrible husband and everyday I prayed that you were safe."
Peter's hands clenched. This was fast, but Belle wanted to help him. She reached out and grabbed his arm.
"Peter, she's your mom. You told me yourself that your father went on to ruin everyone who ever stayed in the house with you. If she is your mom, then the worst thing he could do to her was take her children away."
He shook his head as he stared at her. "Don't defend her, Belle. If she's telling the truth, then she can talk to Rafe. He's on the police."
"Rafe Soliz? Pilar’s son? He's a cop?" His mother walked over to him and reached out. Peter flinched, but let her touch his arm. "I'll talk to him. Peter, I have always loved you. Your father wanted to cut me out of your life, so he could mold you into him."
His lips parted as he stared out the window. "That's exactly what he did."
Tears flew down his mother's cheeks again. "Peter, no."
He walked out of their arms and paced the room.
His mother continued, "Your father didn't have a heart, but you used to."
Belle stood beside her and hugged her stomach. She had no idea how to help.
Then his mother finished, "Your girlfriend seems lovely. Tell me your name and if Peter truly cares about you."
This was the second time today she had been called his girlfriend. She shook her head. "We just met, Mrs. Morgan. I'm Belle Jordan. Peter was showing me his house."
“You seem nice, Belle.” His mother smiled, but then stopped herself. She stared at Peter as she said, "Please call me Isabella. Peter, where is your father?"
"I told you." Peter froze and stared at her from across the room. "He's dead. We buried him months ago."
His mother wiped her eyes and lifted her chin. "He deserved to die in misery. So what took you so long to bring me home?"
Peter stared at Belle and then Isabella, his mom. "I thought you left us. I didn't know anything else. When I was given an expense report, I wanted to know what merchandise Dad had hidden away."
His mother stepped closer to him again. Belle wondered if she had a death wish in that moment until she said, "Peter, where are John and Victoria?"
Peter closed his eyes and massaged his chin. "Vicki's packing for her honeymoon, and John lives with his wife and child."
His mother's eyes widened. "They are married?"
"With children, both of them." He turned toward a maid that stood in the next room. "Caro, have my mother's things brought into the east wing. It seems I have a guest."
"Yes, Mr. Morgan."
Did he always assume his staff was on call without having to raise his voice? The very pretty maid helped Isabella Morgan leave the room.
Belle pressed her lips together.
His mother turned from the door and walked in front of him again. "Can you call them? I want to see all my children again."
"Please follow, Caro, Mom. I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around everything."
"Caro, are you a Soliz as well?"
"Yes, ma'am. My mother worked here before me." His mother turned to go but then stared at Peter again.
She steadied her shoulders. She marched toward Peter, threw her arms around him and hugged him. He didn't hug her, but he stayed still to let her brush his hair with her fingers.
Peter didn't move. He seemed stuck in that one spot. Belle came toward him again and took his hand and unwrapped his fingers. When she placed her hand in his, Peter rocked on his feet and then squeezed her hand.
Isabella Morgan swallowed.
"Belle, I don't know what to do."