Chapter 6 - Victoria’s Last PerformanceVictoria Sterling had never looked less like a prisoner.
She sat in Julian’s library as if hosting a private salon, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, her diamond bracelet glittering beneath the lamplight. A guard stood by each door. Detective Marrow sat across from her. A recording device rested on the table.
Victoria smiled at it.
“Am I supposed to be frightened?”
Detective Marrow did not smile back.
“No. You’re supposed to be honest.”
Victoria laughed softly. “How charming.”
Julian entered with Rebecca, Dalton, and Clara.
The moment Victoria saw Clara, her smile sharpened.
“They let you upstairs again? How generous.”
Clara flinched.
Julian noticed.
So did Detective Marrow.
Victoria noticed them noticing, and her eyes flickered.
Power had always been easiest when no one watched closely.
Now everyone was watching.
Julian placed the tiny hospital bracelet on the table in a clear evidence sleeve.
“Where is she?”
Victoria leaned back.
“Still chasing ghosts, Julian?”
Clara stepped forward.
“No. Our daughter.”
Victoria’s gaze slid to Clara.
“Our?” she repeated. “After everything, you still think you deserve that word?”
Julian’s voice cut through the room.
“Don’t speak to her.”
Victoria looked delighted. “There he is. The grieving husband. The loyal hero. Tell me, Julian, did you cry in every city I sent you to? Did you stand in foreign hotel rooms holding her photograph like some tragic fool?”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
Victoria leaned closer.
“You loved the search more than you loved the truth.”
Clara whispered, “That’s not true.”
Victoria snapped toward her. “You don’t get to speak.”
The old command landed by instinct.
Clara’s shoulders tightened.
Then she looked at the guards.
At the detective.
At Julian.
At the evidence on the table.
And something inside her shifted.
“Yes,” Clara said. “I do.”
Victoria’s expression darkened.
Clara took another step forward.
“You told me he stopped loving me. You told me he remarried you. You told me my name had been removed from every room in this house.”
Victoria’s lips curled. “It should have been.”
“You told me my daughter died.”
The room went silent.
Clara’s voice was shaking now, but not from weakness.
From fury.
“You put her in my arms for twelve minutes and then took her away.”
Victoria’s face hardened.
“She would have been wasted on you.”
Julian moved so fast the guards tensed, but he stopped at the table, fists pressed against the wood.
Detective Marrow leaned forward.
“That sounded like acknowledgment.”
Victoria’s eyes snapped to her.
“I acknowledged nothing.”
Rebecca calmly turned her tablet around.
On the screen was a bank transfer.
Sterling Children’s Foundation.
Nora Vale.
Monthly payments for three years.
Then a larger transfer eighteen months ago.
Rebecca said, “You paid Nora Vale enough money to disappear.”
Victoria did not answer.
Julian’s voice was low.
“Where is my child?”
Victoria looked at him for a long time.
Then she smiled.
It was small.
Triumphant.
Cruel.
“You wouldn’t recognize her if she stood in front of you.”
Clara’s breath caught.
Julian’s face changed.
Detective Marrow looked sharply at Victoria. “What does that mean?”
Victoria leaned back.
“It means children are adaptable.”
Julian’s blood turned to ice.
Victoria looked at Clara.
“Some forget their mothers very quickly.”
Clara stumbled backward as if struck.
Julian caught himself before touching her.
“Clara.”
But she was staring at Victoria.
“You let her grow up thinking I abandoned her?”
Victoria’s eyes glittered.
“I let her grow up alive.”
Clara whispered, “Where?”
Victoria’s smile widened.
Then a phone rang.
Everyone turned.
It was Dalton’s.
He answered, listened, and looked at Julian.
“We found Nora Vale.”
Julian’s entire body went still.
Dalton covered the phone.
“She has a child with her.”
Clara made a sound that was not quite a cry.
May you like
Victoria’s smile vanished.
At last, the mask broke.
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