Chapter 9 - The Child Who Remembered
Emma entered the chapel.
Isabella waited near the altar.
“You look like Evelyn.”
“Give me her necklace.”
“Still direct.”
“Still alive.”
Isabella smiled.
“For now.”
Emma’s phone secretly transmitted audio to Marco.
At least she hoped it did.
“Why did you kill my mother?”
Isabella’s expression changed.
“She refused to understand consequences.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“She had evidence capable of destroying families.”
“So you destroyed mine.”
Isabella’s eyes hardened.
“Your mother chose principle over survival.”
Emma stepped closer.
“No. You chose murder.”
Isabella laughed.
“You have no proof.”
“Lorenzo recorded you.”
That hit.
Emma saw it.
Isabella recovered quickly.
“My husband was a coward.”
“He was afraid of you.”
“He should have been.”
The chapel doors opened.
Vincent entered.
“Enough.”
Isabella turned.
“My son.”
“Put the gun down.”
Emma had not seen the weapon hidden beside Isabella’s dress.
Now she did.
Isabella aimed at Emma.
Vincent stepped between them.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Vincent.”
“You want to shoot her? Shoot me first.”
Isabella’s hand trembled.
For the first time, the mask cracked.
“You would choose her?”
Vincent’s answer came without hesitation.
“Yes.”
Emma stared at him.
Police sirens approached.
Isabella realized the trap.
She ran.
But Celeste stood outside.
Her injured arm remained in a sling.
“Mother.”
Isabella stopped.
Celeste looked terrified.
But she did not move.
“You shot me.”
“You failed me.”
“No.”
Celeste swallowed.
“I finally stopped being you.”
Isabella was arrested.
The dynasty began collapsing.
Yet one mystery remained.
What had actually happened to Lucy during the early months of her illness?
Mercer insisted he had only falsified later assessments.
Rachel believed him.
Then Lucy began talking more.
One evening Emma showed her photographs.
Mercer.
Lucy frowned.
“A bad doctor.”
Celeste.
Lucy looked away.
“Grandma.”
Emma paused.
“What about Grandma?”
Lucy touched her own arm.
“Medicine.”
Emma’s heart stopped.
“What medicine?”
Lucy pointed toward an old photograph of Isabella holding a small bottle.
Emma immediately called Vincent.
Investigators reopened Lucy’s medical records.
They discovered unexplained sedatives administered during periods when Isabella had stayed at the mansion.
Not enough to poison Lucy.
Enough to worsen weakness.
Enough to make recovery appear slower.
Vincent sat alone after hearing the results.
Emma found him.
“I let her near my child.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
“You trusted your mother.”
“I should have known.”
Emma sat beside him.
“Guilt isn’t the same as responsibility.”
He looked at her.
“She hurt Lucy because of money.”
“Yes.”
“And I spent months believing Lucy’s body was failing her.”
Emma took his hand.
“Then spend the next fifty years making sure she knows you were wrong.”
Vincent smiled sadly.
“I can do that.”
A week later, Lucy surprised them.
She released the walker.
One second.
Two.
Emma held her breath.
Lucy took a step.
Then another.
Vincent crouched several feet away.
Lucy walked toward him.
No walker.
Three steps.
Four.
She fell.
Vincent caught her.
Lucy laughed.
“Again!”
Emma cried openly.
Vincent looked over Lucy’s head.
Their eyes met.
That night he asked Emma to walk with him.
They went into the garden.
He stopped beneath the old stone arch.
“Emma.”
Something in his voice made her nervous.
“What?”
“I had a speech.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“I forgot it.”
“Good.”
He reached into his jacket.
Emma stared.
“Vincent.”
He lowered himself onto one knee.
She covered her mouth.
Before he could speak, Marco came running from the house.
“Vincent!”
Vincent closed his eyes.
“You have incredible timing.”
Marco held up his phone.
“You need to see this.”
A live security feed filled the screen.
Celeste’s hospital room.
Empty.
Her guard lay unconscious.
May you like
And on the wall, someone had written three words:
SHE TALKS, SHE DIES.
