Chapter 11
Vanessa finally told the truth because Vincent had.
Not all of it.
Enough.
“Yes.”
She looked at Damon.
“I knew.”
Grace stood beside Charles.
Her face was pale.
Damon asked:
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
Grace stared.
Vanessa smiled bitterly.
“Your little lake-house secret wasn't very secret.”
Damon’s voice hardened.
“So you intercepted Grace’s calls.”
“Yes.”
“Sent the fake message.”
“Yes.”
“Told everyone the child belonged to your husband.”
“Yes.”
Grace whispered:
“Why?”
Vanessa looked at her.
Then smiled.
Cruel again.
“Because shame isolates better than locks.”
Silence.
She continued.
“If people think you slept with a married man, they stop asking why you’re crying.”
Grace’s eyes filled.
Vanessa saw.
Enjoyed it.
“They stop inviting you.”
“Stop trusting you.”
“Stop defending you.”
Then:
“And when you say something terrible is happening, they assume you’re trying to save yourself.”
Damon’s hands tightened.
Grace said:
“You made me alone on purpose.”
“Yes.”
No remorse.
Vanessa continued.
“You were easier that way.”
Charles stared at his daughter.
“How did you become this?”
Vanessa laughed.
“Don’t.”
She pointed at him.
“You don’t get to act shocked.”
“You worshipped Mom.”
“She worshipped Margaret.”
“And everyone else learned to survive around the saintly women.”
Charles’s face tightened.
Vanessa turned toward Grace.
“Your mother thought kindness made her powerful.”
“She died.”
Grace stared.
Then:
“And you’re still afraid of what she left.”
Vanessa stopped.
Grace had learned where to strike.
Vincent looked toward the tunnel.
Damon noticed.
“What?”
Vincent said nothing.
Dean Mercer smiled.
“One more vehicle.”
Damon turned.
“Where?”
“Already inside Cross territory.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
Another layer.
“What target?”
Dean hesitated.
Vincent shouted:
“Don’t.”
Damon looked at him.
“Now I know he should.”
Dean swallowed.
“The lake house.”
Grace went still.
The place where she and Damon had been together.
Where the baby had been conceived.
Why target it now?
Damon understood.
Evidence.
Personal items.
Anything linking Grace to him.
Vincent said:
“They need proof.”
Damon stared.
“Who?”
No answer.
Charles asked:
“Proof for what?”
Vanessa looked at Grace.
Then her stomach.
And smiled.
For the first time, even Marcus looked disgusted.
Damon’s voice lowered.
“Say it.”
Vanessa did.
“If Damon dies…”
Grace stopped breathing.
“…his crews need to believe the child isn’t his.”
Silence.
The public lie about Vanessa’s husband had another purpose.
Not only isolation.
Succession.
If Damon died, his unborn child could become a symbol.
A rival claim.
A reason crews rallied around Grace.
Unless everyone already believed the baby belonged to another man.
Damon looked at Vincent.
His own captain had been helping erase his child before birth.
Vincent’s face hardened.
“You weren’t supposed to find out.”
Damon almost smiled.
“No.”
Then:
“My daughter—or son—wasn't supposed to exist politically.”
Grace looked at him.
The word politically felt wrong.
Damon corrected himself.
“Inside our world.”
Vincent said nothing.
Damon’s phone rang.
Lake-house security.
The vehicle had arrived.
But so had Cross guards.
One man captured.
One escaped.
And inside the vehicle they found something worse than weapons.
A crib.
Empty.
Grace’s face went white.
May you like
They had not only planned for Damon’s death.
They had planned to take the baby after birth.
