Chapter 16 - The House in NewportThe Newport house sat behind weathered gates and high hedges, facing a gray Atlantic morning.
It was not as grand as Blackwood House.
That made it more dangerous.
Grand houses announced themselves. This one hid.
The FBI entered first. I waited in the car with Lydia, watching gulls wheel over the roofline.
After fifteen minutes, Pike returned.
“She’s inside.”
“Is she hurt?”
“No. But you should prepare yourself.”
That phrase never meant anything good.
Isla Crane sat in a sunroom overlooking the ocean, wrapped in a cashmere blanket. She looked thinner than I remembered. Pale. Her perfect blond hair was tied back carelessly. One hand rested over her stomach.
She was very pregnant.
When she saw me, her eyes filled with something I did not expect.
Shame.
“Celeste,” she whispered.
I remained standing.
“Do not say my name like we were friends.”
She nodded.
Fair.
Pike stayed near the door.
I asked, “Did you know who I was?”
Isla’s mouth trembled.
“At first? No.”
“And later?”
She looked toward the ocean.
“Yes.”
The answer should have made me angry.
It did.
But rage had become a crowded room inside me.
“Why?”
Isla laughed weakly.
“Because Helena finds the cracks. My father owed money. My brother needed a transplant. She offered solutions, then collected ownership.”
I thought of the black ledger.
Money. Fear. Forgiveness.
“She made you sleep with my husband?”
Isla looked at me sharply.
“No. Grant did that himself.”
The bluntness surprised me.
Good, I thought bitterly.
At least one person in this nightmare could name a choice.
“Did you love him?”
“No.”
“Does he love you?”
“No.”
The sadness in her voice was not romantic. It was practical. A woman cataloging damage.
“Then why keep the child?”
Her hand tightened over her stomach.
“Because he is mine.”
For the first time since entering, I looked fully at her.
Not as mistress. Not as weapon.
As another woman Helena had turned into an instrument and expected me to hate more than the hand that played us both.
I sat across from her.
“What did Helena promise you?”
“Ten million dollars and protection.”
“And what did she threaten?”
Isla swallowed.
“My family. Custody. Medical records. Everything.”
Pike asked, “Do you have evidence?”
Isla nodded toward a cabinet.
“Blue folder. Top drawer.”
Inside were emails, payment instructions, recorded calls, and a signed agreement naming the unborn child as a potential Blackwood successor.
But there was one page that mattered more.
A medical directive.
In the event of maternal incapacity, custody and decision-making authority transferred to Helena Vale Blackwood.
I looked up.
“Isla.”
She was crying now.
“I know.”
Helena had not wanted a baby.
She wanted another hostage.
Outside, an agent called Pike’s name.
He left, then returned with a grim expression.
“Helena’s attorneys just filed an emergency motion.”
“For what?” I asked.
He looked at Isla.
“Custody protection for the unborn Blackwood heir.”
Isla’s face collapsed.
May you like
The old woman in custody was still moving pieces across the board.
And this time, the piece had a heartbeat.
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