Chapter 14 - Beatrice RunsBeatrice Blackwood had never run from anything in her life.
She had removed obstacles.
Managed scandals.
Outlived rivals.
Buried weakness under diamonds.
But by sunrise, her suite was empty.
Her phone remained on the nightstand.
Her passport was gone.
So were three files from the archive.
Alexander stood in her bedroom doorway while Daniel checked the security logs.
Clara arrived moments later, robe tied tightly, Noah asleep upstairs with Daniel’s wife.
“What files?” she asked.
Alexander looked at her.
“The clinic originals. A private trust addendum. And a sealed folder labeled E.H.”
Clara frowned.
“E.H.?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel looked up from his tablet.
“Mrs. Blackwood left through the garden entrance at 4:12 a.m. Driver was waiting outside the south wall.”
“Whose driver?” Alexander asked.
Daniel hesitated.
“Whitmore plates.”
Clara’s stomach tightened.
“She went to Victor.”
Alexander’s face hardened.
“My mother is many things, but she is not stupid. If she went to Whitmore, she needed something.”
“Or he has something on her,” Clara said.
Alexander looked at her.
That possibility landed.
The morning became a storm.
Lawyers filed emergency motions.
Security traced cars.
Reporters screamed at the gates.
Whitmore Holdings denied knowing Beatrice’s location.
Then at 10:03 a.m., Alexander received a call from an unknown number.
He answered on speaker.
Beatrice’s voice came through.
“Alexander.”
He went still.
“Where are you?”
“I need you to listen.”
Clara stood beside him.
Beatrice sounded different.
Not regal.
Afraid.
“Victor has the original birth recording.”
Clara’s knees nearly weakened.
Alexander’s eyes closed.
“What birth recording?”
“The clinic installed security after a lawsuit. There is footage from the day Noah was born. Clara holding him. The doctor taking him. Everything.”
Clara’s hand flew to her mouth.
Alexander’s voice dropped.
“Why does Victor have it?”
“Because Vivienne kept insurance.”
“Against whom?”
A pause.
“Against me.”
Alexander looked at Clara.
Beatrice continued.
“She was never loyal to this family. She wanted the trust. Victor wanted access to Blackwood voting power. I thought I was using them to protect you. They were using me.”
Clara’s voice shook.
“Where are you, Beatrice?”
The line went silent.
Then Beatrice whispered, “Clara?”
“Yes.”
“I am sorry.”
Clara closed her eyes.
The apology was too late.
But something in Beatrice’s voice was real.
Before Clara could answer, Beatrice gasped.
A male voice sounded in the background.
“Hang up.”
Alexander straightened.
“Mother?”
The call ended.
Daniel was already moving.
“Trace failed. Burner phone.”
Alexander slammed his hand onto the desk.
Clara flinched.
He saw it and immediately stepped back.
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head.
“No. Be angry. Just aim it.”
His laugh was short and dark.
Then Clara said something that surprised everyone.
“We need Vivienne.”
Alexander stared.
“No.”
“She knows where her father would take Beatrice.”
“She will lie.”
“Then make lying cost more than truth.”
Alexander studied her.
For the first time, he saw not only Clara the grieving mother.
He saw Clara the survivor.
The woman who had entered a mansion that stole her baby and scrubbed its floors until she found him.
By noon, Vivienne Whitmore was brought into a conference room under court order for questioning.
She entered furious.
“I have nothing to say.”
Clara stood across from her.
Not in uniform now.
In a simple navy dress Alexander’s assistant had bought and Clara had chosen because it had pockets.
Vivienne looked her up and down.
“Playing lady already?”
Clara stepped closer.
“No.”
Her voice was soft.
“I’m playing mother.”
Vivienne rolled her eyes.
Clara placed Noah’s drawing on the table.
“My son has nightmares because of you.”
Vivienne looked away.
“Your father has Beatrice,” Clara continued. “If you help us, maybe someday Noah only remembers you as the woman who left.”
Vivienne laughed.
“And if I don’t?”
Alexander answered from the doorway.
“Then he remembers you as the woman who helped bury his grandmother too.”
Vivienne’s face changed.
Not enough for innocence.
Enough for fear.
May you like
She whispered one word.
“Westport.”
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