Chapter 23: Claire Arden
Claire’s office had been emptied.
Her computer was gone.
The legal archive containing the Aster property records had been copied.
A hidden compartment inside her desk contained three passports.
Each displayed Claire’s photograph.
Each carried a different last name.
The oldest passport identified her as Claire Arden.
My half-sister.
I stared at the name until the letters blurred.
Sophia covered her mouth.
“Did she know?”
“She knew something,” I said.
Detective Ellis found a file beneath the false bottom of the drawer.
It contained newspaper articles about Thomas Arden’s reported death.
There were also photographs of my mother taken over twenty years.
At grocery stores.
Outside medical offices.
At my graduation.
On my wedding day.
The most recent picture showed Isabelle entering the center that morning.
Claire had written a sentence across the bottom.
HE STILL WATCHES HER.
My phone rang.
Claire’s name appeared on the screen.
“Where are you?” I demanded.
“I cannot tell you.”
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“Are you Thomas Arden’s daughter?”
A long pause followed.
“Yes.”
“Did you know I was your sister?”
“Not when we met.”
“When did you learn?”
“Six months ago.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I was afraid you would remove me from the center.”
“You used me.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“By stealing Noah’s records?”
“I took them before Jonathan Vale could.”
“Where is Mara?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who is the Trustee?”
“My father.”
The answer was not surprising anymore.
It still hurt.
“Thomas Arden is alive.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“He has moved through private medical facilities and offshore estates for decades. Other people signed documents in his name. Other people went to prison in his place.”
“Like Margaret?”
“Margaret helped him.”
“Why?”
“Because he promised the Cross family control of the trust after your marriage.”
I looked at my mother.
Isabelle had heard everything.
“What does he want from Noah?” I asked.
“To declare him the legal successor.”
“And then?”
“He gains control over every asset held by the trust until Noah turns twenty-five.”
“How much money?”
“More than four billion dollars.”
Money.
It always returned to money.
“Meet me,” I said.
“I can’t.”
“You owe me the truth.”
“I owe you more than that.”
A siren sounded through the center.
Staff members shouted in the hallway.
Rosa entered.
“Smoke in the nursery wing.”
I ran.
The fire doors had closed automatically.
No flames were visible, but thick white vapor poured from the ventilation system.
Lydia emerged carrying a child wrapped in Noah’s blanket.
She collapsed near the stairs.
I took the child from her.
He was not Noah.
It was a plastic medical training doll.
“No,” I whispered.
Lydia stared at the empty blanket.
“A firefighter took him.”
“What firefighter?”
“He said you sent him.”
My phone was still connected to Claire.
She heard every word.
“Elena,” she said.
“What?”
“You need to listen carefully.”
“Where is my son?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find him.”
May you like
Claire’s voice broke.
“I think my father just started the succession.”
