Chapter 13 - Sins of the Mother
The grand library plunged into a silence so profound that the only sound was the distant crashing of waves against the cliffs below. Julian stared at Marcus, refusing to let the words penetrate his mind.
"That's impossible," Julian said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "My mother died in a clinic in Switzerland six months after the nursery fire. She broke down from grief! She loved Clara!"
"Julian, look at the signature," Marcus said softly, pushing the decrypted digital document across the desk screen.
Julian’s eyes scanned the illuminated monitor. The document was an ancient, high-level indemnity contract executed through a private Swiss bank. Stamped in official crimson wax was the personal seal of the Duchess Eleanor Alistair. Her distinctive, sweeping cursive signature sat at the bottom of the authorization order, authorizing an eight-figure sum to be transferred to the wet nurse on the exact night Clara was taken.
Clara leaned forward, her face completely drained of color as she read the terms. "She didn't hire someone to kill me," Clara whispered, her voice cracking. "Look at section four."
Julian tore his eyes away from the signature and read the highlighted text.
*Clause 4: The infant is to be placed outside the reach of the High Council permanently. Her identity must be obliterated. If Lord Harrison discovers she lives, all payments cease.*
"She wasn't trying to murder you," Julian realized, his hands beginning to shake. "She was trying to save you from our father."
"What are you talking about?" Clara asked, bewildered.
"Harrison was never a victim of the Sterlings," Julian muttered, piecing together the fragmented memories of his childhood. "He was a member of the inner circle. He was preparing to offer Clara to the Sterling syndicate as a child hostage to guarantee his own seat on the Council. Mother found out. She staged the fire, fake-killed her own daughter, and sent her away into absolute obscurity to keep her safe from Harrison's ambition."
"And then mother 'fell ill' and was sent to a private clinic in the Alps," Marcus added grimly. "Where Harrison made sure she never spoke publicly again."
Clara looked around the opulent library, at the towering shelves of first-edition books, the gilded oil paintings, the priceless antiques. Everything around them had been preserved at the cost of her mother's freedom and her own stolen youth.
Suddenly, the red emergency phone on Julian’s desk rang with a sharp, piercing tone. It was the direct line to the estate’s front gate security.
May you like
Julian grabbed the receiver. "What is it?"
*"Lord Julian,"* the head of security reported, his voice tight with alarm. "A convoy of unmarked black sedans just breached the outer perimeter gate. They have diplomatic immunity plates from the capital. They're demanding immediate access to Lady Clara."
