THE BOY WHO CHOSE THE MAID

Bell was building a case against the family while blaming me for it.

Alexander’s attorneys moved quickly. They notified the court of the forged document and gave investigators the scanned draft. Marcus checked whether Bell had already submitted another version.

She had.

The petition had been filed under a different attorney’s account that morning.

Vanessa’s interview now made sense. Bell needed public claims that Noah was distressed, Alexander was distracted, and I had encouraged the boy to call me his mother. A custody fight would put every one of us under pressure.

“Why would Bell want custody of Noah?” I asked.

“She might want control of his trust again,” Alexander’s lawyer said. “Or leverage to keep us quiet about North Star.”

Eleanor sank into a chair.

“She helped raise Alexander,” she said. “I let her raise Noah.”

The lawyer arranged an emergency hearing. Until then, Alexander was advised to keep Noah close and avoid any private contact with Bell.

I moved my things out of the staff room and into a guest room near Noah’s. It was Alexander’s suggestion, but I made the choice myself. I would not disappear while someone used my name to take him.

That night, I read the petition line by line. It contained details only a person inside the house would know: Noah’s nightmares, Alexander’s travel schedule, Eleanor’s harsh words at the ballroom.

It also claimed I had promised Noah I would become his mother.

I thought of Mrs. Bell telling him I would stay if he was good. She had made him desperate to choose me in front of witnesses. The scene at the ceremony had given her the photograph she wanted.

Claire arrived with messages from Vanessa’s publicist. Bell had been feeding her stories for weeks. Claire was willing to give the exchange to the attorneys and testify about the conversation before the ceremony.

“Vanessa will hate me,” she said.

“She’ll live,” Alexander replied.

Near midnight, Marcus found the attorney account used to file the petition. It belonged to a lawyer who had represented Bell’s brother years earlier.

Alexander sent the information to the detectives.

At 6:12 the next morning, Eleanor was gone.

Her bed was made. Her phone lay on the nightstand. On top of it sat a handwritten note.

I can get Bell to admit what she did. Don’t follow me.

Alexander read it once.