Chapter 8 - Lucy Fights Back
Lucy did not collapse quietly.
She held a press conference outside her mansion.
She wore white.
Of course.
Victims in Lucy's world always wore white.
She accused me of abusing an elderly widow.
She said I had manipulated Miriam.
She called Camila a disgruntled employee.
She called Dr. Pike a criminal.
That last part was true.
She said the VHS tape was edited.
She produced an audio expert who questioned the transfer quality.
Then she cried.
Real tears.
That was what made her dangerous.
Lucy could feel pain and still use it as a weapon.
She said.
"I loved Elena."
I laughed when I watched.
Then she said.
"I cared for Ana when her mother could not."
I stopped laughing.
My phone filled with messages.
Some supportive.
Some hateful.
People who had known me for fifteen seconds explained my childhood to me.
One message said.
YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL SHE RAISED YOU.
I deleted the apps.
Miriam approved.
"Public opinion is weather."
"Evidence is climate."
I liked that.
Lucy sued me for defamation and assault.
The assault claim was fair.
I had slapped her twice.
I did not contest that fact.
My lawyer advised settlement.
I agreed to accept legal responsibility for my actions without admitting her larger claims.
That surprised Lucy.
She had expected me to fight everything.
I issued one statement.
"I struck Lucy Bennett twice."
"That was wrong."
"I will accept the lawful consequence."
"I will not apologize for exposing evidence."
That statement became slap eleven.
Lucy could no longer frame accountability as weakness because I had accepted mine first.
Then the charity regulators released preliminary findings.
At least nine million dollars had been diverted from foundation accounts over twenty years.
Slap twelve.
Bennett Logistics independent directors froze Lucy's voting rights pending trust review.
Slap thirteen.
Charles Vale resigned his bar membership before disciplinary proceedings.
Slap fourteen.
Then Lucy did something I did not expect.
She disappeared.
Her driver found the mansion empty.
Her passport was gone.
Her phones remained.
Rachel called.
"She planned this."
"Where would she go?"
"We don't know."
Miriam did.
"Lake Geneva."
My father had owned a private cottage through a shell company.
Lucy knew about it.
Police arrived two hours later.
The cottage was empty.
But the fireplace was warm.
On the kitchen table sat my mother's red diary.
Lucy had stolen it from evidence.
Or a copy.
Rachel examined it.
"Not the original."
Inside the cover, Lucy had written a message.
ANA, YOU STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT YOUR MOTHER DID.
Beneath it was a photograph.
My mother standing beside Victor Hale.
They were smiling.
Dated eight months before her death.
May you like
For the first time since the gala, Lucy had shown me something I could not immediately explain.
