CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE Nik stared at the diary he'd been reading, fascinated by the revelations within. With the book only half read, he'd already learned some stunning secrets. Who'd have figured that he'd come half-way around the world to find a book penned in London, England, by someone with secrets about the Cassadine family? Could any of what he'd read be true? Could this really be Kristin's diary? Nikolas tried to make out the letter, but the coffee had done a lot of damage to the ink, causing the words to blur. Fortunately, the diary was undamaged, but the letter was nearly impossible to read. Apparently, though, it involved a child named Jillian Rose, and something about Stefan Cassadine. Something else about Ned Ashton. Nik poured another cup of coffee and took out a pen and paper. Things were getting confusing by now, what with the strange family tree that was beginning to reveal itself. As nearly as he could figure it, a woman had been involved with three men in her life, and had borne a child by each man. The one that caught his eye, naturally, was her relationship with Mikkos Cassadine, with whom she'd shared a child, Natasha. Nikolas had overheard Stefan discussing this in the past, this half sister of his, and smiled. Maybe he could now help him find the woman. From all he could glean, the woman had been troubled, She'd apparently had an older daughter by another man, a Professor Gray, or so it seemed, but for years, she'd lost track of the girl, whom she'd named Laura. Odd, Nik reflected, but that story sounded vaguely familiar. Then, after leaving Mikkos, apparently afraid of Helena, she'd met and married Harlan Barrett, eventually giving him a daughter named Julia. Julia, who was apparently the mother of Jillian Rose, mentioned in the letter with the book. Natasha, according to the diary, had been sent to live with her maternal grandmother, though the reason why was unclear. Nik stretched and sat back down to read more. The diary, written in the first person, was filled with the longings of the woman, the frustration and pain of love, and the bitterness brought by fear and regret. Then, for some reason, the diary stopped, with the cryptic message, "I must leave my beloved Harlan and my darling daughter-to do otherwise would doubtless bring disaster. The evil woman has found me again-even in this guise I'm not safe, nor can I protect those I love. I have but one weapon to use against her-but it is surely a two-edged sword. To reveal the truth would bring not only Helena's wrath down on me, but Mikkos' as well. Her secret is also his. Had I but known-no, I'd have done the same thing. It's my lot to love unwisely but well. But, as I'm leaving, I will explain-not that I ever expect you to read this, or to even care. My darling Harlan and Julia, I didn't die as you may think-only Kristin Cummings died, because she knew the truth about Mikkos Cassadine's heirs. He had no sons. Helena brought him Stavros and Stefan-each one sired by men other than Mikkos. I have made records of all I know and have given them to Natasha's grandmother Cummings, a woman of great courage and daring, a woman who was once an English agent, one of seven extraordinary women, two of whom survived the war. That woman, my mother, was known as the Sixth Rose." The Sixth Rose?? The diary stopped there, and Nik quickly flipped through the pages making certain that they were all blank. Stunned, Nikolas sat back. Could this be true?? Could Kristin be alive today, living under a different name? Where was Julia?? He looked back at the letter, wishing that he could make out more, but the words were very blurred. "Danger... Must protect Jillian..." One thing for certain, Nik decided. The diary could strip Stefan of his legacy, if it could be proven that he wasn't Mikkos' son. With a shudder, Nik realized that he was afraid. Of Stefan. Julian looked at Julia Barrett, drugged, dazed and nothing like the vibrant woman he'd kidnapped only a few weeks ago. Whatever she's been protecting, whoever, meant, apparently, more than her own life. Her blue eyes dull with pain, she stared at him, broken at last. "Tell me about The Seventh Rose." "Head hurts." "I can make it stop hurting, but I need this information. I must have it." "Agent." Julia said, finally. "English." "More," Julian pressed. "Don't know The Seventh Rose. Only the Sixth." "Then tell me about the Sixth Rose." "Grandmother." "Your grandmother?" Julia nodded. "Give me her name." "Don't know. Found the diary." "What diary?" "Kristin's diary." "Who is Kristin?" "Mother." "Where is she?" Julia smiled weakly. "Kristin is dead." "Where is the diary?" "Gone." "Where?" "Mailed it." "Where?" "Brenda. Dead, too." "Where did you send it?" Moments later, as Julia slipped quietly from life, Julian smiled. At last-at long last he had a clue. There was a diary delivered to a diner in Port Charles and that diary would lead him to Julia's grandmother, a woman known as The Sixth Rose. And she would lead him to The Seventh Rose. "He'll see me," Tracy announced as she swept into ELQ's inner sanctum. She brushed past the secretary who watched with trepidation as the legendary Tracy Quartermaine strode in. "Dylan, my darling, keep the secretary entertained." Ned donned the smile that he wore during occasions of unpleasantness, a look that his father had described as the equivalent of the British 'stiff upper lip'. "Tracy." "I'm your mother." "****happened." "You know, I've finally discovered where your low class streak came from." "Surely not from my blue-blooded father." "No, Larry was a philandering, parasitic leech, but he wasn't a guttersnipe." "How reassuring to know that being a parasitic leech is a step up from being a guttersnipe." He smiled again. "So, tell me, Mother, What evil wind brought you here? Whose life are you going to ruin today?" "Have you ever heard the expression, 'Winner take all'?" "From the cradle." "And now you have it all-at least, almost all. You control ELQ." "I do." "And I'm proud of you." "I don't know why-I didn't kill anybody." Tracy laughed. "I like you, Ned. Always one step ahead, always ready." "Cut to the chase, Mother." "Money and power." "I have both." "Want more?" At Ned's elevated eyebrows, she continued. "I've just found out the most shocking things-and you know that I don't shock easily." "That's understandable." "Don't be snide, Ned." "I'm sorry, Mother. It must be the guttersnipe in me, I guess. Just say what you came to say and leave. Oh, and I'll be sending the bill for anything that Dylan breaks to you." "I'm not a Quartermaine. I was adopted." Ned paused, stunned. He stared at her for a moment, then demanded, "Explain." "It's easy, Ned. I was adopted by the Quartermaine family-which means that neither of us has Q blood. Not one drop, yet we control the family fortune." "I control that. And, I don't believe you." "Ask your friend, Marty. She can verify my story." At Marty's name, Ned's expression became more guarded. "What does she have to do with this?" "She arranged for my father, your grandfather, to tell me the truth." "And who might that be?" Ned was growing uneasy. "Or don't you know his name?" "His name is Tim Spencer-and Luke Spencer is my full brother." Ned's eyes widened, and he looked at her, aghast. "Then that means..." "You got it, Ned. We're Cassadines."