Chapter 4 - WHAT VICTORIA WAS PAID TO DO
Victoria's tears didn't move me.
Not after Lucas.
Not after the invitation.
Not after the photograph.
But they caught Sylvester’s attention.
He crossed the ballroom slowly.
Victoria stood between two guards.
Her ruined gown was streaked with frosting and red wine.
Mascara had begun to run beneath one eye.
She no longer looked like the untouchable woman who had sneered at my son thirty minutes earlier.
She looked frightened.
Sylvester stopped in front of her.
“Why is Eleanor Cross outside my property?”
Victoria shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I swear.”
“What were you paid to do?”
Her face changed.
There.
Barely visible.
But enough.
I stepped closer.
“You were paid.”
“No.”
“You were.”
She looked at me.
For one second, guilt appeared.
Then anger replaced it.
“You don't know what you're talking about.”
“Then explain the photograph.”
“I can't.”
“Explain the note.”
“I can't.”
“Explain why you knew Nathaniel changed his estate.”
“I can't.”
I moved closer.
“Then start with the one thing you can explain.”
She stared.
“Why did you hit my son?”
Her face hardened.
“I lost my temper.”
“No.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
“I said I lost my temper.”
“You looked at him like you hated him before he even spoke.”
Victoria looked away.
I remembered the moment.
Lucas had bumped the edge of the dessert table.
A spoon fell.
That was all.
Victoria had reacted as if he had deliberately humiliated her.
But now I understood.
It had never been about the spoon.
She knew who he was before I did.
“Someone told you to provoke us.”
Victoria’s shoulders tightened.
Sylvester heard it too.
“What was the goal?”
She remained silent.
He leaned closer.
“Create a public incident?”
Nothing.
“Get Claire removed?”
Her jaw flexed.
“Separate her from Lucas?”
Victoria’s eyes flickered.
There it was.
My blood went cold.
I took a step toward her.
“You were supposed to separate us.”
“No.”
“You were.”
“No.”
“What happens at 8:15?”
Victoria shook her head violently.
“I don't know.”
Sylvester grabbed her phone from the evidence table.
“What is the code?”
She laughed nervously.
“You can't search that.”
“I can give it to law enforcement.”
“And they need a warrant.”
“Correct.”
“Then you can't touch it.”
Sylvester handed the phone to Edmund.
“Preserve it.”
Victoria looked relieved.
Then Sylvester turned toward a guard.
“Bring Detective Ramos inside.”
Her relief vanished.
I looked at him.
“Police are here?”
“They arrived after the shooting.”
Within minutes, a woman in a dark blue suit entered the ballroom.
Detective Lena Ramos.
Late forties.
Sharp eyes.
No interest in wealth.
She took one look at the shattered ballroom and sighed.
“Vale.”
“Ramos.”
“You throw terrible parties.”
“Usually fewer gunshots.”
She glanced at Victoria.
Then me.
Then Lucas.
Her expression softened for half a second when she saw his scraped hand.
“What happened?”
I told her.
Everything.
Not Nathaniel’s entire history.
Just tonight.
The shove.
The invitation.
The photograph.
The tracker.
The archive theft.
The note.
Ramos listened without interrupting.
Then she faced Victoria.
“Ms. Ashford.”
Victoria lifted her chin.
“I want my attorney.”
“Smart.”
Ramos nodded.
“You're not under arrest.”
“Then I'm leaving.”
“No.”
Victoria stiffened.
“You said—”
“You're a witness to a shooting and possible attempted abduction.”
Victoria looked at me.
I felt the floor move under my feet.
“Abduction?”
Ramos pointed toward the tracker.
“Somebody selected a specific child.”
She looked at Lucas.
“They knew when he'd arrive.”
Then toward the photograph.
“They knew where he attended school.”
She returned her gaze to Victoria.
“And somebody gave you his photograph.”
Victoria's voice shrank.
“I didn't know they were going to take him.”
Every person nearby froze.
Ramos’s eyes narrowed.
“Interesting.”
Victoria closed her eyes.
Too late.
The words were out.
I lunged.
Sylvester caught me around the waist before I reached her.
“You knew?”
“Claire.”
“Let me go.”
“Not like this.”
“She knew.”
“I know.”
Victoria backed away.
“I didn't know they were going to hurt him.”
I stopped fighting Sylvester.
That sentence was worse.
“You knew something was going to happen.”
She covered her face.
Ramos stepped forward.
“Ms. Ashford, I strongly recommend you stop talking until counsel arrives.”
Victoria lowered her hands.
Her voice trembled.
“I was told to embarrass her.”
Nobody spoke.
“Who told you?”
Ramos repeated calmly.
“Attorney.”
Victoria swallowed.
“I want my attorney.”
But I saw it now.
The arrogant gala performance.
The deliberate insult.
The crushed invitation.
She had been creating chaos.
Maybe enough for security to remove me.
Maybe enough for somebody to approach Lucas.
At 8:15.
Two minutes after the archive alarm.
Two coordinated distractions.
I looked at Sylvester.
“They were going to take him while everyone watched the upstairs.”
“Yes.”
“But Victoria ruined the timing.”
Ramos glanced toward me.
“How?”
“She shoved Lucas early.”
Sylvester understood.
“The instruction said 8:15.”
I nodded.
“She confronted us at 8:10.”
“And I intervened at 8:11,” Sylvester said.
The archive breach occurred at 8:13.
The abduction team expected Lucas to be somewhere else at 8:15.
Maybe isolated.
Maybe crying.
Maybe separated from me.
Victoria’s impatience may have accidentally saved him.
That did not make me hate her less.
But it changed the picture.
Ramos asked security to take Lucas and me to a private room.
I refused to leave Sylvester.
Lucas did not want to leave me.
So we all moved into a library upstairs.
Not the archive.
A smaller room lined with books.
Ramos sat across from me.
“Mrs. Cross—”
“Bennett.”
She looked at her notes.
“Legal name?”
“Claire Bennett.”
“Your son?”
“Lucas Cross.”
“Father?”
“Nathaniel Cross.”
Her pen stopped.
She looked up.
“That Nathaniel Cross?”
“Yes.”
She leaned back.
“Well.”
I had heard that reaction before.
People never said what they meant.
They said well.
Ramos looked toward Sylvester.
“You buried the lead.”
“It wasn't relevant to the shooting.”
“It might be.”
She turned back to me.
“When did you last speak with Eleanor Cross?”
“Three years ago.”
“Describe it.”
I hesitated.
Then told her.
The reading of Nathaniel’s preliminary will.
The family refusing to recognize Lucas without another DNA test.
Eleanor offering me five million dollars to sign a confidentiality agreement and leave the country.
My refusal.
Her final words.
You will regret making my grandson a battlefield.
Ramos wrote that sentence down.
I had never understood it.
Now I did.
Or thought I did.
“What happened after that?”
“They challenged paternity.”
“And?”
“Lucas was confirmed as Nathaniel’s son.”
“Court ordered?”
“Yes.”
“Case sealed?”
“Yes.”
“Who had access?”
“Our lawyers.”
“Their lawyers.”
“Court.”
“Anyone else?”
“I don't know.”
Ramos looked at Sylvester.
“Somebody accessed it recently?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“My attorney monitors the probate docket.”
Ramos raised an eyebrow.
“Why?”
Sylvester met her gaze.
“Because Nathaniel asked me to protect them.”
Ramos studied him.
Then said something that changed the direction of the entire night.
“Nathaniel Cross filed a police report eleven days before he died.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Ramos flipped through her tablet.
“I remembered the name.”
She typed.
“Unusual case.”
“What report?”
“Attempted vehicle sabotage.”
Sylvester stood.
“What?”
Ramos kept reading.
“He reported finding damage to his brake line.”
The library went silent.
I stared at her.
“No.”
“It was investigated.”
“And?”
“Mechanic said it could have been wear.”
“Nathaniel never told me.”
Ramos looked at me.
“Apparently, he told officers he didn't want his fiancée frightened.”
Fiancée.
Me.
The room blurred.
Nathaniel had known something might be wrong.
He had filed a report.
Changed his estate.
Sent documents to Sylvester.
Then died in a car crash.
Ramos continued.
“The report was closed four days later.”
“By whom?” Sylvester asked.
She frowned.
“That's strange.”
“What?”
“The detective assigned to it.”
“Name?”
Ramos stared at the screen.
“Thomas Keene.”
Sylvester’s expression changed.
I saw recognition.
“Who is he?”
Ramos looked up.
“Former detective.”
“Former?”
“He resigned two years ago.”
“Where is he now?”
Ramos hesitated.
Then turned the tablet so we could see.
Thomas Keene.
Director of Corporate Security.
May you like
Cross Continental Holdings.
Graham Cross’s company.
