Chapter 7 - Blood
Victor survived the night.
Barely.
By sunrise, he was sedated.
The doctors told us his body was failing faster than they expected.
Hours.
Perhaps a day.
Maybe two.
No promises.
Eleanor disappeared before dawn.
She did not answer calls.
Melissa did not return.
Noah remained with Melissa's sister.
I sat in the hospital cafeteria with Ethan and told him about the paternity tests.
His first reaction surprised me.
“So Noah loses everything?”
“No.”
“But Dad gave it to him because he thought Noah was his son.”
“That doesn't make Noah responsible.”
Ethan studied my face.
“Are you going to take everything back?”
“I am going to recover what your father had no right to transfer.”
“What about whatever Dad actually owned?”
“That is more complicated.”
“You could fight that too.”
“Yes.”
“Will you?”
“I don't know.”
Ethan looked down at his coffee.
“He's still a kid.”
“I know.”
“His whole life is about to explode.”
“I know.”
Ethan nodded.
Then asked quietly.
“Did Grandma love Uncle Daniel more than Dad?”
I looked at him.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because if Noah is Uncle Daniel's son, maybe that's why she protected him.”
Maybe.
Eleanor's favoritism between her sons had never been simple.
Victor was the responsible one.
Daniel was the adored one.
Victor built.
Daniel charmed.
Victor obeyed.
Daniel disappointed everyone and was forgiven.
When Daniel died, Eleanor turned him into a saint.
“What happened in the boating accident?” Ethan asked.
“Daniel went out alone.”
“In October?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“They said he had been drinking.”
“Did they find him?”
“Yes.”
The question stayed with me.
By noon, Martin called.
“The judge expanded the freeze.”
“Good.”
“Two more accounts.”
“Eleanor's?”
“One.”
“And the other?”
“Melissa Ward.”
“How much?”
“Two point one million.”
I closed my eyes.
“Current?”
“Yes.”
“Source?”
“We're tracing.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated.
“The lake house.”
“What about it?”
“Someone filed a deed at 8:03 this morning.”
I stood.
“What?”
“Purported transfer from you and Victor to VWH Capital.”
“I never signed anything.”
“I know.”
“When is the document dated?”
“Six years ago.”
My stomach dropped.
“Six years?”
“Your signature is notarized.”
“By whom?”
A pause.
“Jonathan Price.”
There it was.
Jonathan was no longer merely Victor's cautious attorney.
He was involved.
“Get me a copy.”
“Already sent.”
I opened my email.
The deed looked legitimate.
My name.
My supposed signature.
My father's lake house.
Transferred six years earlier to a company secretly owned by Eleanor.
I felt rage in a way I had not allowed myself to feel in thirteen years.
“That house was never Victor's.”
“I know.”
“My father built it.”
“I know.”
“Jonathan notarized a forged signature.”
“That's what it appears.”
“Why file it now?”
“To create an ownership record before your freeze reaches VWH.”
“But dating it six years ago—”
“Could be an attempt to make it look like an old transfer.”
I stared through the hospital window.
“Sloppy.”
“Desperate.”
“Same thing.”
Martin's voice hardened.
“We're notifying the court.”
“Do it.”
“And Catherine?”
“Yes?”
“This just moved beyond civil litigation.”
I knew.
Forged deeds.
Fraudulent notarization.
Corporate diversion.
Potential evidence destruction.
The affair was almost irrelevant now.
“Call the district attorney?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“I want the documents preserved first.”
“Agreed.”
I ended the call.
Ethan approached.
“What happened?”
“Someone tried to take the lake house.”
His face hardened.
“Dad?”
“The document says six years ago.”
“Did you sign it?”
“No.”
“Then who—”
“Jonathan notarized it.”
Ethan stared.
“Dad's lawyer?”
“Yes.”
My phone buzzed.
A message from Melissa.
WE NEED TO TALK WITHOUT ELEANOR.
I stared at it.
Then another arrived.
SHE LIED TO BOTH OF US.
I replied.
WHERE?
Melissa sent an address.
A small café twenty minutes from the hospital.
Ethan read the message.
“You're not going alone.”
“Yes.”
“Mom.”
“Martin will know where I am.”
“So will I.”
I looked at my son.
He had aged years in two days.
“Fine.”
We drove to the café.
Melissa sat in the back corner.
No designer bag.
No perfect makeup.
No polished confidence.
She looked exhausted.
She stood when we approached.
Then saw Ethan.
“I said alone.”
“He's part of this.”
Ethan remained standing.
Melissa looked uncomfortable.
For good reason.
She had spent thirteen years sharing his father.
I sat.
“Talk.”
Melissa pressed her palms together.
“Victor knows.”
“Yes.”
“You told him Noah isn't his.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes filled.
“He was going to die without knowing.”
“That was your plan?”
“He loved Noah.”
“He loved a lie you created.”
She flinched.
“You think this is simple.”
“No.”
“Daniel didn't want a child.”
“And Victor did?”
“Victor wanted me.”
There it was.
Brutal.
Ugly.
Human.
Melissa looked toward the window.
“When I found out I was pregnant, Daniel told me to handle it.”
Ethan stiffened.
I said nothing.
“Victor and I had already been involved.”
“For how long?”
“Four months.”
“So you slept with brothers.”
Her face tightened.
“Yes.”
“Did they know?”
“No.”
“And when Noah was born?”
“I didn't know which one was his.”
“So you tested Victor.”
“Yes.”
“And he wasn't.”
“No.”
“Then Daniel.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“He was.”
“Why didn't you tell Victor?”
“Because by then, Daniel had told me he was done.”
“And Victor?”
“He came every week.”
Her voice broke.
“He held Noah.”
“He paid for everything.”
“He said he'd take care of us.”
I felt no sympathy for her.
But I understood the mechanism.
Security.
Money.
Affection.
Fear.
She had chosen the man who wanted the child and discarded the biological truth.
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“For thirteen years.”
“Yes.”
“And yesterday, you watched him transfer millions to Noah.”
“Yes.”
“Knowing he believed Noah was his.”
Melissa wiped her face.
“Yes.”
Ethan finally spoke.
“Did you ever care what this did to me?”
Melissa looked at him.
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
He laughed bitterly.
“That is the most useless sentence adults say after doing exactly what they wanted.”
She looked away.
Ethan sat beside me.
Melissa continued.
“I asked you here because Eleanor knew.”
“How long?”
“Eleven years.”
“Prove it.”
Melissa pulled out her phone.
“There are messages.”
She opened an old email account.
One email was dated eleven years earlier.
From Eleanor Hale.
I read it.
I KNOW THE TRUTH ABOUT DANIEL.
DO NOT EVER USE HIS NAME WITH VICTOR.
NOAH WILL BE PROVIDED FOR AS FAMILY.
IN RETURN, YOU WILL PRESERVE THE VERSION OF EVENTS THAT PROTECTS EVERYONE.
My pulse accelerated.
There was more.
IF YOU DISCLOSE PATERNITY, ALL SUPPORT ENDS.
Melissa looked at me.
“She controlled everything.”
I scrolled.
Property arrangements.
School payments.
Travel.
Instructions.
Eleanor had managed Melissa's secret family like a corporate subsidiary.
Then I saw one email that did not fit.
Dated nine years ago.
Three days before the warehouse fire.
Eleanor wrote:
THE ORIGINAL AGREEMENT MUST DISAPPEAR BEFORE VICTOR LEARNS WHAT IT REALLY SAYS ABOUT SUCCESSION.
I read it twice.
“What does that mean?”
Melissa shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Why did you keep this?”
“Insurance.”
Of course.
I forwarded everything to Martin.
Then I looked at Melissa.
“What does Eleanor think the agreement says?”
“I told you.”
“I don't know.”
I stood.
Ethan followed.
Melissa grabbed my wrist.
“There's more.”
I looked down at her hand.
She released me.
“What?”
“Daniel didn't die because he was drunk.”
The café noise faded around me.
“How do you know?”
Melissa swallowed.
“Because I was the last person he called.”
Ethan went still.
“And what did he say?”
Melissa's face turned pale.
“He said he had discovered something about Eleanor.”
“What?”
“He wouldn't tell me over the phone.”
“What did he say exactly?”
Melissa closed her eyes.
Then repeated the words that had haunted her for eleven years.
May you like
“He said, ‘My mother has been stealing from Victor since before Catherine ever married him.’”
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