Chapter 8
Daniel was alive.
Barely.
My men found him at the old hunting lodge before dawn.
Thin.
Bruised.
Angry.
The first thing he asked:
“Mia?”
Not himself.
His daughter.
Good man.
We brought him to a private room in the hotel.
When he saw Mia, he cried.
No shame.
No hiding.
He held her like eight months disappeared inside one breath.
Clara stood beside him.
“Uncle Danny.”
He pulled her into his other arm.
I looked away.
Some reunions belong to the people who lost them.
Then Daniel saw me.
His expression changed.
“You finally know.”
“Yes.”
He laughed weakly.
“Took long enough.”
Fair.
I sat.
“What did you find?”
He looked at Catherine.
Then me.
“Your own men were selling access.”
“North corridor?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Stephen. Two captains. Richard.”
“Victoria?”
Daniel's face hardened.
“She knew enough.”
That answer mattered.
“How much?”
“She knew Elena had Clara.”
“Yes.”
“She knew Stephen was threatening Elena.”
My jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“She knew they took me.”
Silence.
Victoria had not merely hidden a child.
She knowingly stayed engaged to me while my men imprisoned Mia's father.
Daniel continued.
“Elena tried reaching you.”
“How?”
“Letters.”
My chest tightened.
“How many?”
“Six.”
I thought of the single envelope Clara delivered.
“Where are the others?”
Daniel looked at Catherine.
My sister went pale.
No.
I stared.
“Catherine.”
She started crying.
“Adrian—”
“How many?”
“Three came to me.”
My jaw tightened.
“And?”
“Victoria intercepted two.”
“One?”
She closed her eyes.
“I burned it.”
Silence.
Daniel looked away.
I could barely speak.
“You burned Elena's letter.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she said Clara was yours.”
That answer almost knocked the air out of me.
“You knew.”
“I suspected before.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You knew.”
Catherine cried.
“Yes.”
“Why burn it?”
“Because Dad had just died.”
Silence.
“Our family was unstable.”
Nothing.
“Richard said if a hidden child appeared, the Ashford alliance would collapse.”
I almost laughed.
“So?”
“I thought you needed stability.”
There.
The same disease.
Family stability over family truth.
Daniel stared at her.
“Elena needed him.”
Catherine covered her face.
“I know.”
“No.”
Daniel's voice sharpened.
“You know now.”
Silence.
He looked at me.
“She called Catherine first because she trusted her.”
My sister sobbed.
I didn't comfort her.
Not yet.
“What happened to Elena?”
Daniel's face changed.
My chest tightened.
“She died?”
He nodded.
“When?”
“Four days ago.”
Clara had traveled alone with an eight-month-old baby for four days?
No.
Someone helped.
“Who brought them here?”
Daniel shook his head.
“Don't know.”
Catherine whispered:
“Mrs. Bell?”
Clara's neighbor.
Maybe.
Daniel continued.
“Elena had cancer.”
Silence.
Not murder.
Not poisoning.
Something worse in its own way.
She had spent her final months trying to get our daughter to me while people deliberately blocked her.
I closed my eyes.
Daniel said:
“She didn't want revenge.”
I looked at him.
“She wanted Clara safe.”
Silence.
“And Mia?”
He held his daughter tighter.
“She promised me.”
My chest hurt.
Elena had carried two children while dying because everybody around her decided their secrets mattered more.
Daniel reached into his coat.
One more folded page.
“Elena told me if I ever got out, give you this.”
I opened it.
Adrian,
If you are angry with Catherine, remember she was afraid.
But fear does not excuse what she did.
Do not teach Clara that love means pretending betrayal never happened.
May you like
I looked at my sister.
Elena knew her better than I did.
