Chapter 15 - The Birthday Party Wasn't the First Trap
Julian owned Whitmore Health through a trust their grandfather created before he died.
Celeste had controlled the company only because Julian was declared dead.
If Julian appeared alive, every board action for the past eight years could be challenged.
Including the transfer of Harbor Fund money.
"That's why she kept him hidden," I said.
Vanessa nodded.
"And medicated."
Mom closed her eyes.
"Same as Keene did to me."
Different dose.
Same strategy.
Keep the witness alive enough to control.
Sick enough not to fight.
I wanted to hate Vanessa again because it was simpler.
Instead I watched her realize her mother had built their entire family around controlled illness.
The gala was held at Whitmore Memorial's new cancer wing.
I arrived in a borrowed black dress and shoes I could actually run in.
Dominic noticed.
"Practical."
"You learn after kneeling in cake."
His mouth almost smiled.
Vanessa entered alone through the front, exactly as Celeste demanded.
Cameras turned.
Reporters shouted questions about her "health leave."
Celeste approached her daughter with open arms.
"Vanessa. Thank God."
Vanessa did not hug her.
"Where is Julian?"
The microphones caught every word.
Celeste's smile froze.
Then the lights went out.
Of course they did.
I heard movement behind the service curtain.
A man grabbed my arm.
Training took over.
I turned under his grip, drove an elbow into his ribs, swept his leg, and kept moving.
No fancy movie fight.
Just enough violence to create space.
Dominic's security engaged two more men near the loading hallway.
I found Vanessa in a stairwell.
"My mother took the elevator down."
"Then we take stairs."
Basement level three smelled like bleach and old concrete.
A private research suite sat behind an unmarked security door.
Inside were patient rooms.
Not one.
Six.
Julian was in the first.
Alive.
Weak.
Furious.
Vanessa ran to him.
He held her face and said, "You got mean."
She laughed and cried at the same time.
"You got skinny."
I started cutting the restraint on his wrist.
Then he looked at me.
"Avery Carter."
"Apparently everyone knows me."
"Your father talked about you constantly."
My hands stopped.
"When?"
Julian frowned.
"After the fire."
"Three days after?"
"No. Months after."
The room went silent.
I stared at him.
"My father died eight years ago."
Julian shook his head.
"Not then."
"How long was he alive?"
"At least six months."
Vanessa whispered, "Julian..."
He looked at me with terrible sympathy.
"Avery, the birthday party wasn't the first time someone used you to draw Thomas out."
I felt cold.
"What are you talking about?"
"Your father was watching you for months after his funeral."
Then Julian said the sentence that made my knees weak.
"And your mother knew."
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