Chapter 14 - Claire’s Last TruthThe old clinic stood outside the city.
Abandoned.
Windows broken.
Walls covered in moss.
Victoria entered alone.
Or so she thought.
Charles followed.
“You said alone.”
“You cannot go by yourself.”
“You lied to me too many times.”
“I know.”
She continued walking.
A light flickered upstairs.
They climbed.
At the end of the corridor was a room.
Inside was Claire.
Older.
Thin.
Alive.
Victoria stopped.
Claire looked at her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Claire whispered:
“Victoria.”
Victoria crossed the room.
“Why didn't you come home?”
Claire looked down.
“Because there was no home left.”
Victoria knelt.
“Why did you hide my daughter?”
“Because your father was going to kill her.”
“And Rosie?”
“Because Rosie was the only person who could make Rosalind disappear.”
Victoria's voice cracked.
“You sacrificed your own daughter.”
“I did.”
Claire cried.
“I thought I was saving them both.”
Victoria looked at Charles.
“Why did he help you?”
Claire hesitated.
“Because he loved you.”
Victoria looked away.
“He had a strange way of showing it.”
Claire nodded.
“He was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of becoming like your father.”
Victoria froze.
Claire continued.
“Your father controlled everyone through money. Charles thought he could beat him by controlling the money first.”
“Thirty million.”
“Yes.”
“Where did it go?”
Claire pointed toward a cabinet.
Victoria opened it.
Inside were transfer records.
The money had been divided into dozens of accounts.
Hospital foundations.
Legal charities.
Families.
Children who had been hidden.
Charles had not stolen thirty million.
He had spent thirty million trying to dismantle the network.
Victoria looked at him.
“Why did you let me hate you?”
Charles's eyes were wet.
“Because hatred kept you alive.”
Victoria said nothing.
Claire reached for her hand.
“There is one thing you still don't know.”
“What?”
“Your mother.”
Victoria stiffened.
“What about her?”
“She was not part of your father's operation.”
“What?”
“She was trying to expose him.”
Victoria stared.
“Then why did she say what she said in the recording?”
Claire shook her head.
“That recording was altered.”
“By whom?”
Evan.
Victoria felt a sudden wave of anger.
“What happened to my mother?”
Claire looked at her.
“She died trying to protect you.”
Victoria's eyes filled with tears.
“You're sure?”
“I was there.”
“Then why did everyone lie?”
“Because your father threatened to destroy every person who told the truth.”
Victoria closed her eyes.
Eight years of grief.
Eight years of lies.
She had blamed herself.
Blamed Charles.
Blamed the hospital.
Blamed fate.
All while the truth had been buried beneath the family name.
Claire suddenly coughed.
Blood appeared at the corner of her mouth.
Victoria panicked.
“Claire?”
Claire smiled faintly.
“There isn't much time.”
“No.”
“Listen to me.”
She reached beneath the mattress.
Pulled out a final envelope.
“This belongs to Rosalind.”
Victoria took it.
Claire whispered:
“Open it when she is eighteen.”
Victoria frowned.
“She is eight.”
“I know.”
“Why eighteen?”
“Because that is when the trust becomes fully hers.”
Victoria stared.
“What is inside?”
“The names.”
“What names?”
“Every person who was bought.”
Victoria opened the envelope.
Inside was a single key.
And a photograph.
A newborn baby.
Rosalind.
On the back:
THE CHILDREN WERE NEVER THE PRODUCT.
Victoria turned it over.
A second sentence:
THEY WERE THE WITNESSES.
A sound came from downstairs.
Doors slamming.
Several men entering.
Claire's face changed.
“They found us.”
Charles stepped toward the door.
“How many?”
“Too many.”
Victoria grabbed Claire.
“We're leaving.”
Claire shook her head.
“No.”
“I'm not leaving you.”
“You must.”
Claire pointed toward the window.
“Take the girls.”
Victoria froze.
“The girls?”
Claire smiled.
“You still don't understand.”
“What?”
“Rosie and Rosalind are not the only survivors.”
Victoria stared.
Behind them, the door exploded inward.
Charles raised his weapon.
A man shouted:
“DROP IT!”
Victoria pulled Claire behind her.
Then another voice rang out.
“DON'T TOUCH THEM!”
A familiar little voice.
Rosie.
She had followed them.
Rosalind stood beside her.
Two girls.
Two different mothers.
Two identical eyes.
And behind them stood the police.
Daniel lowered his weapon.
“You're late.”
Rosie smiled.
“Mama told me you would come.”
Victoria looked at the girls.
Then at Claire.
Then at Charles.
For the first time, the entire story seemed to make sense.
Almost.
Then Daniel walked toward her.
His expression was grim.
“Victoria.”
“What?”
“We arrested Evan.”
“So?”
“He wasn't the one who ordered the girls killed.”
Victoria froze.
Daniel held up an evidence bag.
Inside was an old photograph.
A young woman.
Standing beside Victoria's father.
Victoria recognized her immediately.
Her mother.
And beside her was a little boy.
Charles.
Victoria stared.
“That can't be.”
May you like
Daniel spoke softly.
“The person who ordered Rosalind's death was your mother.”
