Chapter 9 - THE LAST BETRAYAL
Dominic Vale had spent his entire life believing his mother was dead.
Now he had heard her voice.
And Vincent Mercer was standing beside her.
For several seconds, Dominic couldn't move.
Then he called Detective Whitcomb.
"I need you to trace a call."
"From whom?"
"My mother."
Whitcomb paused.
"Dominic, your mother died thirty-eight years ago."
"Apparently, she didn't."
By midnight, investigators had traced the call to a private medical residence in Westchester County.
The property belonged to a corporation registered in Delaware.
The corporation was controlled by Vincent Mercer.
Whitcomb arranged a coordinated operation with state police.
Dominic insisted on accompanying them.
She refused.
"This is an active investigation. You don't get to decide how we execute it."
"That's my mother in there."
"And if you interfere, you could get her killed."
Dominic looked away.
He wanted to argue.
Wanted to take control.
Wanted to call every armed man he knew and tear the building apart.
But he remembered Claire standing on the runway.
He remembered Frank pointing a gun at a frightened teenager.
And he remembered how quickly fear became violence when nobody was willing to stop it.
"All right," Dominic said.
Whitcomb nodded.
"Stay available. We'll contact you."
At Rebecca's apartment, Claire was sitting beside Evelyn when Dominic arrived.
She stood immediately.
"What happened?"
He looked exhausted.
"My mother's alive."
Claire stared.
"What?"
"Vincent has been keeping her somewhere in Westchester."
Evelyn covered her mouth.
"Eleanor?"
Dominic nodded.
Claire slowly sat down.
For months, she had believed she was the only person trapped inside the Vale family's secrets.
Now she was discovering that the entire family had been built on disappearances.
Children taken.
Mothers hidden.
Medical records altered.
Deaths that might never have happened.
She looked at Dominic.
"Do you think she'll tell us the truth?"
"I don't know."
"Do you believe her?"
Dominic sat beside the window.
"I don't even know what to believe about my own childhood anymore."
Claire studied him.
Then she asked the question she had been carrying for days.
"Dominic, if your father hadn't been who he was, would you still have become this man?"
He looked at her.
"What man?"
"The one people are afraid to disappoint."
Dominic was silent.
Claire continued.
"The one who thinks protecting someone means controlling everything around them."
He lowered his eyes.
"I don't know."
It was the first answer she'd received from him in years that didn't sound rehearsed.
She sat across from him.
"I need you to understand something."
He looked up.
"Even if we survive this, I can't go back to the way things were."
Dominic nodded slowly.
"I know."
"I won't raise our daughter in a house full of guns and secrets."
"Then we won't."
"And I won't be your wife just because you're afraid of losing me."
His face tightened.
Claire's voice softened.
"If we're going to have a future, it has to be because we choose each other. Not because you can keep me from leaving."
Dominic stared at her for a long moment.
Then he removed his wedding ring.
Claire's breath caught.
He placed it on the table.
"I'm not asking you to come home."
She looked at the ring.
"I'm asking for a chance to become someone you might want to come home to."
Claire began crying.
But she didn't reach for the ring.
Not yet.
At 2:17 A.M., Detective Whitcomb called.
"We found Eleanor."
Dominic stood.
"Is she alive?"
"Yes."
"Is she hurt?"
"She's weak, but she's receiving medical attention."
"Where's Vincent?"
"Gone."
Dominic's expression hardened.
"What about Nathaniel?"
Whitcomb hesitated.
"He's here."
Dominic stopped breathing.
"At the house?"
"Yes."
"Is he under arrest?"
"He's in custody. But Dominic, there's something you need to understand."
"What?"
"Nathaniel has been seriously ill for years. According to the medical staff, Vincent controlled his medications, finances, and communications."
Dominic frowned.
"He threatened my daughter."
"We know. We're investigating whether Vincent coerced him."
Dominic looked toward Claire.
She had heard everything.
"Can we speak to him?" she asked.
Whitcomb answered.
"Not tonight. He needs medical evaluation first."
Claire nodded.
Then Whitcomb added something that made Dominic go still.
"Your mother says Vincent has been lying to both of you."
The following afternoon, Dominic met Eleanor Vale in a private hospital room.
She was seventy-four.
Her hair was almost entirely white.
Her hands were thin.
But when she looked at him, Dominic saw the eyes from the portrait that had hung above his father's desk throughout his childhood.
"Dominic," she whispered.
He stood frozen.
She began crying.
"My beautiful boy."
He couldn't speak.
For thirty-eight years, he had imagined what his mother might have been like.
He had imagined her kind.
Gentle.
Someone who would have protected him from Richard's cruelty.
Now she was sitting six feet away.
Alive.
And he didn't know whether to embrace her or demand an explanation.
"Why?" he finally asked.
Eleanor lowered her eyes.
"Your father told me you died."
Dominic stared.
"What?"
"After you were born, Richard said there had been complications. He told me you didn't survive."
Dominic felt the room tilt.
"He told me you died giving birth."
Eleanor covered her mouth.
For several seconds, neither could speak.
Then she began sobbing.
"He separated us."
Dominic sat slowly.
"Why?"
"Because I tried to expose Northbridge."
She wiped her cheeks.
"I discovered that Richard was using children in unauthorized medical research. I threatened to go to the authorities."
"What happened?"
"He had me declared mentally incompetent."
Dominic's jaw tightened.
"He kept you hidden?"
"For years. Later, Vincent took control of the arrangements. He told me Richard had died and promised he would help me find you."
Dominic stared at her.
"He knew I was alive."
Eleanor nodded.
"He told me you refused to see me."
Dominic closed his eyes.
Vincent hadn't simply stolen money.
He had stolen decades.
Later that afternoon, Claire visited Eleanor with Rebecca and an investigator present.
Eleanor looked at Claire's stomach.
Her eyes filled.
"You're having a little girl."
Claire nodded.
"Yes."
Eleanor smiled sadly.
"I remember when I was expecting Dominic. I thought nothing could be more frightening than becoming a mother."
Claire sat beside her.
"What changed?"
"I learned that the most frightening thing is being unable to protect your child."
Claire swallowed.
Eleanor reached for her hand, then stopped.
"May I?"
Claire hesitated.
Then nodded.
Eleanor gently held her fingers.
"I owe you an apology."
Claire looked confused.
"For what?"
"Your mother."
Claire went still.
Eleanor's eyes filled.
"I signed the hospital transfer document."
"Why?"
"Richard told me the child was being moved to safety."
Claire stared.
"Did you believe him?"
Eleanor looked down.
"I wanted to."
The answer hurt more than a denial would have.
Claire withdrew her hand.
Eleanor began crying.
"I knew what kind of man he was. I should have questioned him."
"Yes," Claire whispered. "You should have."
Eleanor nodded.
"I won't ask you to forgive me."
For a long moment, Claire said nothing.
Then she stood.
"I need some time."
Eleanor nodded again.
"Take all the time you need."
That evening, investigators obtained a recorded statement from Nathaniel.
Dominic listened from a separate room with Whitcomb.
Nathaniel looked older than his forty-seven years.
His face was gaunt.
His hands trembled.
He spoke slowly.
"Vincent told me Claire's baby could save my life."
Whitcomb leaned forward.
"Did you believe him?"
"At first."
"What changed?"
Nathaniel swallowed.
"I saw the medical reports. The treatment wasn't proven. The doctor told Vincent there was no legitimate reason to take the baby."
"Then why did you threaten Dominic?"
Nathaniel began crying.
"Vincent was standing beside me. He said he'd stop paying for my treatment if I refused."
Dominic stared at the screen.
Whitcomb asked another question.
"Where is Vincent now?"
Nathaniel shook his head.
"I don't know."
"Who else was involved?"
Nathaniel hesitated.
Then looked directly toward the camera.
"There's someone you haven't found."
Whitcomb leaned forward.
"Who?"
Nathaniel swallowed.
"The person who paid Vincent."
Dominic went completely still.
Whitcomb asked, "Who paid him?"
Nathaniel looked terrified.
"I never learned the name."
"Then what do you know?"
Nathaniel's voice dropped.
"Vincent called them the Benefactor."
A long silence followed.
Then Nathaniel added:
"And whoever they are, they knew Claire was pregnant before any of us did."
At 11:43 P.M., Claire received a final message on her prepaid phone.
No photograph.
No threat.
Just seven words.
VINCENT WAS NEVER THE ONE IN CHARGE.
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And beneath them:
ASK REBECCA ABOUT THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT.
