Chapter 9 - THE BABY’S FATHER
The paternity results arrived the next morning.
Julian asked to read them alone.
He sat in Margaret’s office with the sealed envelope in front of him for almost a minute.
Then he opened it.
I watched his eyes move across the page.
His expression did not change.
He folded the paper.
“It’s not mine.”
The words were quiet.
Chloe closed her eyes.
Victor was the father.
There was no celebration.
No relief.
Only another piece of Julian’s future disappearing.
He had spent several days wondering whether he was about to become a father.
Now that possibility was gone.
Even though it had been born from deception, part of him had already imagined it.
That was obvious.
Chloe whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
Julian looked at her.
“For which part?”
She said nothing.
He stood.
“I hope the baby is healthy.”
Chloe began crying.
Julian continued.
“I hope you become a better mother than you were a fiancée.”
Then he left.
Chloe covered her face.
I felt no desire to comfort her.
But I also felt no satisfaction.
She was carrying a child who would one day inherit consequences created before birth.
That child deserved better than all of us.
Margaret received another call before we left.
Victor had agreed to cooperate formally with federal investigators.
The case had expanded.
Fraud.
Identity theft.
Financial conspiracy.
Possible evidence tampering.
Potential links to Ethan Cross’s death.
Bernard was now the primary target.
But he had disappeared.
His apartment was empty.
His Manhattan hotel room contained nothing except a burner phone and a handwritten note.
The note was addressed to me.
CAROLINE, YOU ALWAYS BELIEVED MONEY COULD BUILD WALLS.
LET’S SEE WHETHER IT CAN BUILD A COFFIN.
Police took the threat seriously.
So did I.
Julian was moved temporarily to a secure location.
He hated it.
I stayed at the mansion.
He hated that more.
“You’re the target.”
“So are you.”
“Then come with me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Bernard wants me running.”
“That’s pride.”
“Possibly.”
“Mom.”
I looked at him.
“I spent decades building this house into a place where people I love felt safe.”
“I will not abandon my staff while one of them is being framed.”
Julian shook his head.
“This isn’t a movie.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then stop acting like you’re invincible.”
That hurt because he was right.
I agreed to increased security.
Not evacuation.
Elena’s legal situation improved when forensic analysts found Chloe’s DNA on the velvet jewelry bag.
Chloe admitted planting it.
That confession helped.
But the sedative bottle complicated everything.
Chloe claimed she had not placed it there.
Victor claimed he had never seen it.
That meant Owen likely had.
We still could not find Owen.
Two nights later, Marcus received a strange alert from the abandoned guesthouse near the north edge of the property.
Motion sensor.
The building had been empty for months.
Security approached carefully.
Inside they found food wrappers.
A sleeping bag.
Two burner phones.
Photographs of the mansion.
A copy of Julian’s weekly schedule.
Owen had been living there.
Watching us.
On the wall was a printed calendar.
August 23 was circled.
The night before the original wedding date.
Beside it were three handwritten words.
PILLS — CHAPEL — SIGNATURE.
Julian stared at the photograph Marcus sent.
“It was real.”
“Yes.”
“If you hadn’t tested Chloe…”
I knew where his mind went.
He would have married her.
He might have taken the altered medication.
He might have woken in a hospital confused and frightened.
Chloe might have been beside him.
Bernard might have appeared with papers.
The idea made me nauseous.
But I also knew something else.
“My test did not save you.”
Julian looked at me.
“What?”
“Chloe’s cruelty exposed a plan that was already unstable.”
“Victor was afraid.”
“Chloe was conflicted.”
“Bernard was impatient.”
“Eventually one of them would have made a mistake.”
Julian shook his head.
“That sounds like you’re trying not to take credit.”
“I’m trying not to pretend I controlled something this dangerous.”
He studied me.
Then he nodded.
That was the first moment since the bucket when I felt mother and son standing on the same side again.
Daniel arrived with information about Owen.
His real name was Owen Price.
No relation to Daniel.
He had worked as private security for Bernard almost twelve years earlier.
More importantly, his bank records showed recent transfers from an offshore account linked to Victor’s companies.
Victor denied authorizing them.
“Can Bernard access Victor’s accounts?”
“Yes.”
“Then Owen worked for Bernard.”
“Probably.”
“Find him.”
Police found Owen before we did.
Not alive.
His body was discovered inside an abandoned vehicle outside Newark.
No obvious signs of violence were released publicly.
The investigation became significantly more serious.
Bernard was no longer merely suspected of financial crimes.
Two men connected to his operation were dead.
Ethan Cross.
Owen Price.
Victor panicked.
He requested immediate protective custody.
Chloe did the same.
I understood.
Bernard’s circle was shrinking.
People who knew too much were becoming liabilities.
Then Natalie called.
Her voice trembled.
“Mrs. Vance, somebody broke into my house.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“What did they take?”
“That’s the strange part.”
“Nothing.”
“Then why do you think—”
“They left something.”
“What?”
“A photograph of Ethan.”
I closed my eyes.
“What else?”
“Words on the back.”
“What words?”
Natalie began crying.
YOUR BROTHER WAS NUMBER ONE.
JULIAN WILL BE NUMBER FOUR.
I felt my chest tighten.
“Number four?”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel did.
He had been listening beside me.
“Mason.”
“What?”
He opened the photograph from Chloe’s hidden drawer.
MASON — ALMOST.
Ethan was one.
Mason might have been two.
There had been another target before Julian.
We only knew three names.
Ethan.
Mason.
Julian.
Who was number three?
Daniel began searching.
Hours later, he found a sealed civil case involving Victor Hale and a wealthy developer named Gregory Lane.
Gregory had survived.
Barely.
Three years earlier, he suffered what newspapers described as an accidental overdose four days before his planned wedding to a woman named Rebecca.
Chloe.
Gregory Lane was number three.
And he was still alive.
When we contacted him, he refused to speak by phone.
He sent only one message.
If Bernard knows you found me, do not come to my house.
Then another appeared.
He has someone close to Julian.
I stared at the screen.
We had heard that before.
We had assumed Owen was the insider.
Gregory sent a final message.
May you like
Not staff.
Family.
