Chapter 10: The Mother Who Survived
Arthur had lied about my mother’s death.
The car recovered at the bottom of the cliff belonged to Eleanor, but the body inside had been burned beyond recognition.
Arthur used Lydia’s dental records to identify it.
One false death concealed another.
Eleanor survived the crash.
But Arthur found her before the police did.
For twelve years, he kept her hidden inside a private medical facility owned by one of Vale Maritime’s shell companies.
He convinced doctors she was dangerous.
He controlled her medication.
Her visitors.
Her identity.
Vivienne found her after following a transfer order in Arthur’s ledger.
Arthur moved Eleanor to his estate as soon as he realized the federal investigation was closing in.
He wanted to trade her life for the evidence against him.
Elena refused to let me go alone.
This time, we planned for Arthur’s signal jammer.
Federal agents entered the property through underground service tunnels while I approached the front entrance.
Arthur waited in the library.
My mother sat beside him in a wheelchair.
Her hair had turned silver.
Her body looked fragile.
But her eyes were still the same.
“Celeste,” she whispered.
I wanted to run to her.
Arthur raised a pistol.
“Stay where you are.”
Vivienne stood near the fireplace, clutching the original ledger.
Grant remained outside with Elena.
“Give me the evidence,” Arthur said.
“You already have the ledger.”
“I want Lydia’s files, the flash drive, and the DNA report.”
“You cannot erase everything.”
“I erased you.”
“No. You hid me.”
His face twisted.
“You are not my daughter.”
“I know.”
For the first time, saying it did not hurt.
It freed me.
Arthur aimed the pistol at my mother.
“The evidence.”
I placed a drive on the table.
Arthur picked it up.
“Is this everything?”
“Yes.”
He handed it to Vivienne.
“Destroy it.”
Vivienne stared at him.
“Do it,” he ordered.
She moved toward the fireplace.
Then she threw the drive at his face.
Arthur flinched.
I lunged forward.
The gun fired.
My mother screamed.
Federal agents burst through the doors.
Arthur grabbed Vivienne and dragged her toward the balcony.
He held the pistol beneath her chin.
“Let me leave,” he shouted, “or she dies.”
Vivienne looked at me.
For years, she had mocked me because Arthur’s approval was the only love she understood.
Now she finally saw what that love was worth.
Arthur backed toward the balcony railing.
A helicopter rose beyond the estate, waiting above the lawn.
Then my mother stood from the wheelchair.
Arthur stared at her.
Eleanor had pretended to be weaker than she was.
She struck him with the metal handle of her cane.
The gun fell.
Vivienne broke free.
Arthur stumbled backward over the railing.
For one second, he hung above the stone courtyard.
I grabbed his wrist.
He looked up at me.
“You hate me,” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“Then let go.”
Below us, federal agents moved into position.
I tightened my grip.
“No. You are going to live long enough to hear every verdict.”
But as agents pulled him to safety, Mercer stepped from the helicopter.
May you like
He fired toward the balcony.
And my mother fell.
