Chapter 13 - THE WOMAN IN WHITEAurora responded three minutes after Jules finished playing.
Not with words.
With a chess move.
The message appeared on the private server as a single notation.
Qh5.
My father’s analyst frowned. “Queen to h5?”
Jules went pale.
“What does it mean?” I asked.
“It’s from Lucien’s game,” he said. “The one he deliberately lost.”
“Why would that matter?”
“Because he lost it to you.”
I stared at him.
The memory came slowly. Geneva café. Rain. A chessboard drawn on a napkin because Lucien claimed romance required strategy and caffeine. He had moved his queen too early. I had laughed and beaten him in six moves.
“She knows,” Jules said. “Aurora knows the song is real.”
Another message appeared.
WHITE ROOM FALSE. TRANSFER MIDNIGHT. WOMAN IN WHITE WATCHES.
Keene leaned over the table. “Transfer where?”
A third message came.
MOTHER MUST NOT COME.
Pain moved through me sharper than the wounds on my back.
Jules read my face. “She doesn’t mean it like that.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she didn’t say Lena. She said mother.”
The smallest word became a doorway.
Mother.
Aurora had written mother.
My father’s team traced the server path while Keene coordinated with Swiss authorities. Every official route slowed. Every approval needed another approval. Vivian’s influence appeared not as blocked doors, but as polite delays.
The transfer would happen in less than six hours.
Legal would arrive in twelve.
Vivian had designed the math.
“She wants you to break the law,” Keene said. “If you go outside the system, she exposes Elias as exactly what Nathan claims he is.”
“If we wait, Aurora disappears,” I said.
No one argued.
Because everyone knew.
Jules studied the message again. “Woman in white.”
“Vivian?” my father asked.
“No. Aurora never calls Vivian a woman. She calls her V.”
Celeste, under guard in another room, was brought in when we asked.
At the phrase, her expression changed.
“The Woman in White is Dr. Selene Ward,” she said.
My father’s head snapped up.
I had heard the name once before. At charity dinners. Human cognition research. Trauma recovery. Elite education.
Celeste continued. “She runs behavioral conditioning for Vivian. Not torture. Refinement. She teaches children to distrust instinct, detach from affection, and obey layered commands.”
My stomach turned.
“My daughter is not a weapon.”
Celeste looked at me sadly, and somehow that was worse than her cruelty.
“To Vivian, everyone is.”
Keene demanded everything Celeste knew. Names. Locations. Transfer protocols. Guards.
Then Celeste said, “There’s one more thing.”
Of course there was.
“Selene Ward doesn’t work for Vivian because she’s afraid of her.”
“Then why?” I asked.
“Because she believes in the project.”
“What project?”
Celeste looked at Aurora’s frozen face on the screen.
“The Crown Heir Initiative.”
My father swore.
Keene turned to him. “You know it?”
“A theory,” he said. “A rumor from old intelligence circles. Select children from powerful bloodlines trained to inherit networks without emotional compromise.”
“That sounds insane,” Keene said.
“No,” Celeste replied. “It sounds expensive.”
The room fell silent.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered before anyone could stop me.
A woman spoke.
Not Vivian.
Calmer. Colder.
“Mrs. Ashford.”
“Vale,” I said.
A pause.
“Noted.”
“Selene Ward?”
“Yes.”
“Where is my daughter?”
“With me.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“If you hurt her—”
“I do not hurt children. I improve them.”
Jules looked ready to smash the table.
Selene continued. “Aurora has requested one concession before transfer.”
“What?”
“She wants to hear your voice.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
The line clicked.
Then another breath.
Young.
Controlled.
Familiar in a way blood understood before memory did.
“Mother?” Aurora said.
I closed my eyes.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I’m here.”
A silence.
Then Aurora spoke again.
“Do not trust the woman crying beside you.”
My eyes opened.
May you like
Celeste had tears on her face.
And in that instant, the lights went out.
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