Chapter 8 - The Woman Behind the Empire
Nora stared at Eleanor.
“Samuel never told you.”
Eleanor's smile faded.
“No.”
“Then you still don't have it.”
Eleanor stepped closer.
“Your brother hid something that belongs to me.”
“What?”
“A record of transactions that could destroy several very important people.”
Nora's pulse raced.
“Then maybe they deserve to be destroyed.”
Eleanor struck her.
The slap echoed through the room.
Dr. Porter flinched.
Nora turned her face back slowly.
Blood touched the corner of her mouth.
“You know what's funny?” Nora whispered.
Eleanor narrowed her eyes.
“My brother told me about people like you.”
“And what did he say?”
“That they always mistake fear for respect.”
Eleanor stared at her.
Then smiled.
“You really are going to be a problem.”
At eight forty-five the following evening, Vincent arrived outside Ashcroft.
He was alone in the vehicle, as instructed.
At least, that was what Eleanor believed.
Police and federal investigators had established surveillance beyond the perimeter after obtaining warrants based on the kidnapping evidence.
Rebecca had coordinated with the authorities.
Vincent wore a concealed microphone.
He carried a folder containing transfer documents prepared under legal supervision.
None would grant Eleanor actual control.
His hands were steady.
Not because he wasn't afraid.
Because Nora was inside.
And fear had finally become something he could act through instead of surrendering to.
Eleanor met him in the facility's main laboratory.
She wore a cream-colored suit and the emerald bracelet from the video.
Vincent looked at it.
“Still wearing stolen jewelry?”
She smiled.
“Your father gave me this.”
“My father gave you a great deal.”
“Not enough.”
“Where's Nora?”
“Sign first.”
Vincent opened the folder.
“Show me she's alive.”
Eleanor nodded toward a security monitor.
Nora appeared on the screen.
She sat in a chair.
Her face was bruised.
But she was alive.
Vincent's chest tightened.
“Nora.”
She looked toward the camera.
“Vincent, don't—”
The audio cut.
Eleanor folded her hands.
“Now.”
Vincent took the pen.
Then paused.
“Before I sign, tell me why Samuel had to die.”
Eleanor sighed.
“Samuel found the research records. He discovered the program had been used to conceal financial transfers and unauthorized medical procedures.”
“Cross was working for you.”
“Cross was working for himself. I simply understood how to use his ambitions.”
“And Dominic?”
“Dominic had debts. Very expensive ones.”
Vincent stared at her.
“You bought him.”
“I rescued him. There's a difference.”
“Did he arrange my shooting?”
“He arranged access. I arranged the men.”
Vincent's hand tightened around the pen.
“You ordered them to shoot me.”
“I ordered them to frighten you and leave you alive. You were becoming difficult to control.”
“By putting a bullet in me?”
Eleanor looked away.
“That wasn't supposed to happen.”
Vincent stared at her.
For four months, he had believed the shooting was punishment for something he'd done.
Now he understood it was punishment for something he'd refused to do.
Surrender control.
He set down the pen.
“No.”
Eleanor blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“I won't sign.”
Her face hardened.
“Then Nora dies.”
Vincent looked directly at her.
“No, Eleanor.”
He pressed a button on the wheelchair's armrest.
A signal went to Rebecca.
“Your operation ends tonight.”
Outside, police vehicles moved toward the facility.
Eleanor heard the sirens.
Her expression changed.
“You brought them?”
“Yes.”
She lunged toward a drawer.
Vincent rolled backward.
A gun appeared in her hand.
“Stop!”
He froze.
Eleanor aimed at his chest.
“You stupid, ungrateful boy.”
Vincent met her eyes.
“You're finished.”
A door crashed open.
“Police! Drop the weapon!”
Eleanor turned.
For one terrible second, Vincent thought she would fire.
Then she lowered the gun.
Officers restrained her.
Nora was found minutes later.
Vincent saw her emerge from the hallway with a paramedic.
Her wrists were bruised.
Her face was pale.
But she was walking.
He moved toward her.
“Nora.”
She looked at him.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then she dropped to her knees beside his wheelchair and wrapped her arms around him.
Vincent held her tightly.
His breath shook.
“I thought I'd lost you.”
“You almost did.”
He pressed his forehead against hers.
“I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
“For doubting you. For letting you leave. For every day I was too afraid to tell you what you meant to me.”
Nora closed her eyes.
“Vincent—”
“I love you.”
The words came out broken.
Unpracticed.
Real.
She began crying.
“I love you too.”
He kissed her.
Not like a billionaire claiming something.
Not like a powerful man making a promise he could purchase.
Like someone who had nearly lost the only person who saw him clearly.
Three weeks later, prosecutors announced charges against Eleanor, Dominic, and Dr. Cross.
Dr. Porter cooperated with investigators and provided records supporting the case, while her own conduct remained under review.
Samuel's death was formally reopened.
But the most important evidence remained missing.
A storage device Samuel had concealed before his injury.
Nobody knew where it was.
Until Nora received a package containing one of her brother's old notebooks.
Inside the back cover, written in Samuel's handwriting, was a message.
Nora, if you're reading this, remember where we used to hide things when we were children.
May you like
Beneath it were three words.
Under Mom's piano.
