Chapter 8 - The Stepmother's Confession
Beatrice Harding had never looked old to Anna.
Not when she married Thomas.
Not when she stood beside his hospital bed wearing designer jewelry.
Not even when she fired Anna from the bakery without the slightest sign of remorse.
But now, sitting beneath a flickering light with bruises on her face and tears running through her makeup, Beatrice looked twenty years older.
Anna stared at her.
"What do you mean, Dad was going to expose you?"
Beatrice wiped her cheeks.
"Victor had been using the bakery's accounts to move money."
Anna felt sick.
"How long?"
"Almost three years."
"And you knew?"
"Yes."
Anna looked at her with disgust.
"You let him steal from Dad?"
"At first, I thought it was a temporary arrangement. Victor promised the money would be returned."
"That's what you're calling it? An arrangement?"
Beatrice lowered her eyes.
Anna leaned forward.
"My father was dying. I was working sixteen-hour days trying to keep the bakery open. We were borrowing money to pay for medication, and you were stealing from us?"
"I never wanted it to go that far."
"But you let it."
Beatrice began crying again.
Anna felt no sympathy.
Not yet.
"Tell me what happened to my father."
Beatrice looked toward the door.
"Victor discovered Thomas had copied the financial records. He wanted me to find them."
"Did you?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"Thomas confronted me. He knew about the transfers. He knew Victor was connected to the warehouse where Caroline had been held."
Anna's breath caught.
"You knew my mother was alive?"
Beatrice closed her eyes.
"Yes."
The word struck harder than any insult.
Anna stared.
"How long?"
"Since before I married your father."
For several seconds, Anna could not speak.
Then she whispered, "You watched me visit her grave."
Beatrice's lips trembled.
"Anna—"
"You watched me put flowers on a grave you knew was empty."
"I'm sorry."
"You watched me cry for her every Mother's Day."
Beatrice covered her face.
Anna's voice broke.
"And you never said a word."
A long silence followed.
Finally, Beatrice lowered her hands.
"Victor told me Caroline had agreed to disappear to protect you. He said if I revealed she was alive, people would come after you."
"Did you believe him?"
"At first."
"And later?"
Beatrice looked away.
Anna understood.
"Later, you liked the money too much."
Beatrice did not deny it.
Anna leaned back.
For years, she had wondered why her stepmother never loved her.
Now she understood something worse.
Beatrice had chosen comfort over conscience, repeatedly, until cruelty became easier than telling the truth.
"What happened to Dad?" Anna asked again.
Beatrice swallowed.
"Victor wanted the notebook. Thomas refused to give it to him."
"Did Victor poison him?"
"No."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not. Your father was already seriously ill. Victor threatened to interfere with his treatment and destroy the bakery unless he surrendered the records."
Anna felt tears burning behind her eyes.
"Did he?"
"No."
For the first time, Beatrice looked directly at her.
"Your father refused."
Anna lowered her head.
Of course he had.
Thomas Harding had spent his life refusing to surrender what mattered.
He had worked through blizzards, recessions, and medical bills.
He had given away bread to people who couldn't afford dinner.
He had protected a wounded stranger.
And when powerful men came for his family, he had refused them too.
Beatrice spoke quietly.
"Three days before he died, he told me something."
Anna looked up.
"What?"
"He said I could take his money, his building, and even his name. But I would never own his daughter."
Anna's face crumpled.
For a moment, she was no longer sitting in a locked room.
She was twelve years old again, watching her father teach her how to knead bread.
Don't fight the dough, Annie. Work with it. Give it time.
She pressed her eyes shut.
Then the door opened.
Victor Sloane entered.
Two men followed.
He wore a dark blue suit and carried a small leather folder.
"How touching," he said.
Anna lifted her head.
Victor smiled.
"Thomas always did have a talent for making people sentimental."
Beatrice stood.
"You promised you wouldn't hurt her."
Victor ignored her.
He approached Anna.
"Your father left something behind. I need it."
Anna stared at him.
"Go to hell."
Victor laughed softly.
"Definitely Thomas's daughter."
He placed a photograph on the table.
It showed Caroline Harding sitting beside a window.
Alive.
Older.
Thin.
But unmistakably alive.
Anna's breath caught.
"Mom."
Victor watched her reaction.
"She has been very difficult to manage."
"Where is she?"
"That depends on you."
"What do you want?"
"The flash drive."
Anna went still.
Victor noticed.
"Ah. So you found it."
She said nothing.
"The drive contains information that belongs to me."
"My father didn't think so."
"Your father made a very expensive mistake."
Victor leaned closer.
"Where is it?"
Anna looked at Beatrice.
Then back at Victor.
"I don't have it."
Victor's smile disappeared.
"Don't waste my time."
"It's with my attorney."
That was partly true.
Olivia had copied the files before Anna was abducted.
But Anna hadn't told her everything.
Victor studied her.
"Then you'll call your attorney and arrange a meeting."
"And my mother?"
"You'll see her when I have what I want."
Anna looked down at her bound wrists.
"Untie me."
Victor raised an eyebrow.
"Excuse me?"
"If you want me to convince Olivia to bring the drive, I need to sound like I'm calling voluntarily."
Victor considered this.
Then nodded to one of his men.
The restraints were cut.
Anna rubbed her wrists.
Victor handed her a phone.
"Call."
Anna dialed Olivia's number.
It rang twice.
"Anna?" Olivia answered immediately. "Where are you?"
Anna forced her voice to remain steady.
"I'm safe."
"Anna, listen to me—"
"I need you to bring the files to the old Harding warehouse."
Victor watched closely.
Olivia went silent.
Anna continued.
"The original documents. Everything Dad left me."
"Anna, are you being threatened?"
Anna looked directly at Victor.
Then said, "Remember what Dad always told me about bread?"
There was a pause.
Olivia answered carefully.
"Give it time."
Anna's eyes filled.
"Exactly."
She ended the call.
Victor took the phone.
"Very good."
Anna lowered her gaze.
He hadn't understood.
But Olivia had.
Anna had never told her attorney that phrase.
Only one other living person knew her father's favorite advice.
Elias.
And Olivia had heard it from him earlier that morning.
The phrase was their agreed signal that Anna was speaking under duress.
Victor turned toward the door.
"Prepare the transfer."
Beatrice stiffened.
"What transfer?"
Victor looked back.
"Caroline has outlived her usefulness."
Anna stood.
"No."
Victor smiled.
"Sit down."
"Where is my mother?"
He approached slowly.
"Your mother has caused me twenty years of trouble."
Anna's voice trembled.
"If you hurt her—"
Victor seized her chin.
"You'll do what?"
Anna stared into his eyes.
For the first time, she understood why her father had refused to surrender.
Some people mistook kindness for weakness.
Some mistook silence for defeat.
And some had never learned what happened when a frightened person finally stopped being afraid.
Anna spoke quietly.
"I'll make sure everyone knows what you did."
Victor released her.
Then laughed.
"Your father said almost the same thing."
He turned toward his men.
"Move her."
But before anyone touched Anna, a deep explosion shook the building.
The overhead light flickered.
A second later, the security alarm began screaming.
Victor reached inside his jacket.
"What the hell was that?"
One of his men checked his radio.
"Sir, there's a fire at the loading entrance."
Victor swore.
Anna looked toward the door.
Then heard a familiar voice over the security system.
Low.
Controlled.
Terrifyingly calm.
"Victor."
Everyone froze.
Elias Romano spoke again.
"You took someone I promised to protect."
May you like
A pause.
"Now open the door."
