Chapter 8 - The Bride Who Knew Too Much
Victoria Ashbourne had changed out of her wedding gown.
She wore a plain gray coat, dark trousers, and shoes without heels.
Her hair was tied back.
Without diamonds and palace lighting, she looked younger.
And frightened.
Alexander met her in Gabriel's study.
“Talk.”
Victoria flinched.
“Alexander, please.”
“You have five minutes.”
She looked toward the closed door.
“Is Isabelle here?”
He said nothing.
Victoria closed her eyes.
“Then it's true.”
“Yes.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“I hoped it wasn't.”
Alexander stared.
“You hoped she was dead?”
“No.”
Victoria shook her head.
“I hoped she had escaped years ago.”
He gave a bitter laugh.
“That's supposed to make me feel better?”
She lowered her eyes.
“No.”
Alexander crossed his arms.
“Start with the transfer order.”
Victoria removed an envelope from her coat.
Inside was a copy of the document shown at the wedding.
Alexander's signature appeared beneath the authorization.
“I prepared this,” she whispered.
He stared.
“You forged my name.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Harrow told me Isabelle would be moved to an independent hospital.”
Alexander felt his anger sharpen.
“You believed him?”
“I wanted to.”
“That's not an answer.”
Victoria looked up.
“He said you were going to discover she was alive.”
“Good.”
“He said you would abandon the wedding.”
“I did.”
“And that the banks would withdraw their support from the government.”
Alexander stared at her.
“So you decided to disappear a woman for the sake of a wedding?”
Victoria's face collapsed.
“I know how it sounds.”
“It sounds criminal.”
“It was.”
She pressed her hands together.
“I understand that now.”
Alexander leaned closer.
“Did you know about Henry?”
Victoria hesitated.
His stomach dropped.
“Victoria.”
“I knew there was a child.”
“How long?”
She began crying.
“Four years.”
Alexander stared.
Four years.
She had shared dinners with him.
Traveled with him.
Listened to him talk about wanting children someday.
And all that time, she knew he already had a son.
“You let me believe I was alone.”
Victoria wiped her face.
“I was terrified.”
“Of what?”
“My father.”
Alexander frowned.
Victoria reached into her bag.
She withdrew an old photograph.
King Edward sat beside a much younger Lord Ashbourne.
Between them was a third man.
Edmund Harrow.
The photograph had been taken decades earlier.
“My father signed a financing agreement with the crown before either of us was born,” Victoria said.
Alexander examined it.
“What kind of agreement?”
“A rescue package.”
“For what?”
“The royal treasury.”
Alexander looked up.
Victoria continued.
“The government was facing a debt crisis.”
“My father told me the debt had been resolved.”
“It was refinanced.”
“By Ashbourne Capital?”
She nodded.
“On terms that were never disclosed.”
Alexander stared.
“What does this have to do with us?”
Victoria unfolded a yellowed contract.
One clause had been marked.
The families agree to pursue a matrimonial union between their designated successors, subject to their voluntary consent and applicable law.
Alexander stared.
“They planned our marriage?”
“They hoped for it.”
“Before I was born?”
“Yes.”
He looked away.
Victoria continued.
“When you fell in love with Isabelle, my father became furious.”
“Why?”
“Because the marriage was supposed to consolidate the financial arrangement.”
Alexander understood something.
The crown was not merely tied to Ashbourne money.
It had become dependent on it.
Victoria swallowed.
“Your mother thought Isabelle would destroy that arrangement.”
“And you?”
“I was seventeen.”
“You weren't seventeen when you forged the order.”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“I made that choice myself.”
Alexander looked at her for a long moment.
“Why are you here?”
Victoria reached into her bag again.
This time she withdrew a small recording device.
“Because Harrow lied to me.”
Alexander didn't respond.
“He promised Isabelle wouldn't be harmed.”
“That's not a defense.”
“I know.”
Victoria pressed the device into his hand.
“Yesterday, I heard him speaking to my father.”
Alexander stared.
“About what?”
“Your father.”
The room went silent.
Victoria whispered, “They weren't discussing his death as something that happened.”
Alexander looked down at the recorder.
“They were discussing it as something they arranged.”
Gabriel entered the room.
“May I?”
Alexander handed him the device.
Gabriel connected it to a speaker.
Two voices emerged.
The first belonged to Victoria's father.
“We agreed Edward would be removed from decision-making, not killed.”
The second belonged to Edmund Harrow.
“You agreed to the outcome, not the method.”
Alexander felt the floor shift beneath him.
Lord Ashbourne spoke again.
“The medication change was supposed to incapacitate him.”
Harrow answered coldly.
“Then someone exceeded instructions.”
A long silence.
Then Lord Ashbourne whispered.
“Who administered the final dose?”
Harrow said nothing.
The recording ended.
Alexander stood frozen.
His father had not simply died.
At least two powerful men had been discussing a plan to incapacitate him.
And one knew that a medication change might have caused his death.
Alexander looked at Victoria.
“Why didn't you take this to the police?”
“Because Harrow controls the people who would receive it.”
Gabriel nodded grimly.
“She has a point.”
Alexander turned toward him.
“Then we need someone he doesn't control.”
“Judge Mercer.”
Alexander nodded.
“Contact her.”
Victoria stepped forward.
“Alexander.”
He turned.
She looked toward the hallway.
“There's something I need to tell Isabelle.”
His expression hardened.
“No.”
“Please.”
“You've done enough.”
Victoria's voice shook.
“I was at Blackthorn.”
Alexander stopped.
“When?”
“Last month.”
“Why?”
“Harrow wanted me to see her before the transfer.”
Alexander stared.
Victoria swallowed.
“She asked me to take a letter to you.”
His face went pale.
“Where is it?”
Victoria opened her coat.
From an inside pocket, she withdrew a folded page.
The paper was worn at the corners.
Alexander recognized Isabelle's handwriting.
He unfolded it.
Alexander,
I don't know whether you will ever see these words.
They tell me you are happy.
They tell me you have forgotten us.
I want to believe they are lying.
But if you truly know where we are, please let Henry go.
He deserves sunlight.
He deserves school.
He deserves a life that isn't measured in locked doors.
You can hate me forever.
Just don't punish our son.
Alexander couldn't see the final line through his tears.
He lowered the letter.
Victoria was crying openly.
“I'm sorry.”
Alexander looked at her.
“You had this for a month.”
She nodded.
“You watched me plan a wedding.”
“Yes.”
“You let Isabelle believe I hated her.”
“Yes.”
He turned away.
For a long time, he didn't speak.
Then he said quietly, “You're going to testify.”
Victoria nodded.
“Everything.”
“Even if your father goes to prison?”
“Yes.”
“Even if you do?”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Alexander walked toward the door.
Victoria spoke one last time.
“Alexander.”
He stopped.
“I did love you.”
He looked back.
“I think you loved the life you imagined we'd have.”
She didn't answer.
He opened the door.
“And Isabelle paid the price.”
Outside the study, Isabelle stood beside the staircase.
She had heard enough.
Her eyes moved from Victoria to Alexander.
Then she said something neither of them expected.
“I want to speak to her.”
Alexander hesitated.
“Isabelle—”
“Alone.”
Victoria looked stunned.
Alexander studied Isabelle's face.
Then slowly nodded.
He left the room.
As the door closed, Isabelle looked at the woman who had nearly married the father of her child.
“Tell me one thing.”
Victoria wiped her eyes.
“Anything.”
Isabelle's voice was steady.
“When you came to Blackthorn, did Henry ask you for help?”
Victoria went pale.
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Tears filled Victoria's eyes.
“He asked whether you could come to our wedding.”
Isabelle stared.
Victoria broke down.
“He said if you came, Alexander might finally see you.”
For the first time, Victoria understood the full weight of what she had done.
The child she helped keep hidden hadn't wanted to steal her wedding.
May you like
He had wanted his parents to find each other.
And upstairs, Henry woke from a nightmare calling for the father who had finally come.
