Chapter 8
The answer came from Damian.
Not confession.
Anger.
Vivienne blamed him for everything.
He snapped.
“I wasn’t the one who found her at St. Catherine’s.”
I went still.
St. Catherine’s.
Old church property north of the city.
My mother once donated money there.
Natalie knew it.
So did half the family.
“Who found her?”
Damian realized.
Too late.
I stood.
“Who?”
He looked at Matteo.
There.
Matteo closed his eyes.
“Men from the north route.”
His route.
They found Natalie two weeks after her escape.
Weak.
Hiding.
They brought her to Matteo.
Not to me.
“Where?”
“A guest property.”
I felt my heartbeat slow.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Vivienne whispered something.
I turned.
“What?”
“She was alive when I saw her.”
Everyone looked at her.
“When?”
“Four months later.”
My chest tightened.
Four months.
Not days.
Not weeks.
Months.
“What happened?”
Vivienne’s confidence finally broke.
“She refused to tell us where she copied the records.”
That was the leverage.
Not merely silence.
Natalie had hidden proof.
They kept her alive because they needed it.
“Did you hurt her?”
Vivienne looked away.
I repeated.
“Did you?”
“We scared her.”
That answer was enough.
I did not ask for details in front of Audrey’s nanny.
I did not need them.
“Where did she go after four months?”
Matteo answered.
“She escaped again.”
Of course.
Natalie had been escaping these people while I was mourning her.
The shame of that nearly hollowed me out.
“Then?”
“No one found her.”
I looked at Vivienne.
She shook her head.
“I swear.”
For once, I believed her.
Not because she deserved trust.
Because fear looked different when a liar reached the edge of what she actually knew.
Natalie escaped twice.
The second time, she vanished from them too.
Which meant there was still a chance.
Not certainty.
May you like
A chance.
And I had spent three years refusing to imagine it.
