Chapter 10 - THE WOMAN WHO REFUSED TO BE BOUGHT"Twenty-eight thousand dollars," Vivian said. "That's all it would take to make this ugly situation disappear."
I stood in the living room, staring at her.
She had returned to collect the last of her belongings.
Two suitcases stood beside the door.
She looked completely untroubled by the fact that an innocent woman was spending the evening in police custody.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
Vivian adjusted her bracelet.
"I've been thinking. If Grace admits she took the necklace and apologizes, perhaps I could persuade the authorities that I don't want her prosecuted."
I felt my anger rising.
"You want her to confess to something she didn't do?"
Vivian sighed.
"Nathan, sometimes people need to be practical."
"Practical?"
"She could accept a settlement. You could give her some money, send her away, and we could all forget this ever happened."
I stared at her.
"How much?"
She smiled.
"Twenty-eight thousand for the necklace, and perhaps another fifty thousand to encourage her to find employment somewhere else."
I shook my head.
"You think eighty thousand dollars can erase what you've done?"
Vivian's smile vanished.
"What I've done?"
"I saw the footage."
For a second, she stopped breathing.
"What footage?"
"You entering Grace's room."
Her eyes flickered.
"I was looking for her."
"With a velvet pouch in your hand?"
She stepped back.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I also saw Garrick Shaw."
That did it.
Vivian's face went white.
"Nathan—"
"Did your father send him?"
She glanced toward the front door.
"I think I should leave."
"Did your father send him?"
She grabbed the handle of her suitcase.
"Nathan, there are things you don't understand."
"Then explain them."
She looked at me.
For a brief moment, I saw fear beneath her anger.
Real fear.
"My father doesn't forgive people who embarrass him."
I frowned.
"Are you afraid of him?"
She laughed sharply.
"Don't be ridiculous."
But her hand was trembling.
I stepped away from the door.
"Leave, Vivian. And don't contact Grace again."
She pulled her suitcase past me.
Before stepping outside, she turned.
"You still think your father was a good man, don't you?"
I remained silent.
She smiled bitterly.
"Then you haven't found everything."
The door closed.
I stood alone in the foyer.
Those final words disturbed me more than I wanted to admit.
An hour later, I drove to the detention center.
Grace had been assigned an attorney named Lydia Chen, a composed woman in her forties who specialized in criminal defense.
Marisol had recommended her, but Lydia made it clear that her duty was to Grace alone.
"I've reviewed the original camera footage," Lydia told me. "It materially supports her account."
"Will they release her?"
"The prosecutor's office has agreed not to oppose her release while the footage and circumstances are investigated. We're also seeking dismissal of the charge."
"How soon?"
"She's being processed now."
I waited in the lobby.
For once, there was nothing I could accomplish by making another phone call.
I sat in a plastic chair beneath a flickering fluorescent light, thinking about how much of my life had been spent assuming that justice was automatic.
It wasn't.
It required people willing to fight for it.
Sometimes it required people willing to listen before making accusations.
And sometimes it required someone with evidence to speak when remaining silent would be easier.
Finally, a door opened.
Grace appeared.
She wore the same sweater she had worn that morning.
Her hair had come loose around her face.
She looked exhausted.
When she saw me, she stopped.
I stood.
"Grace."
She walked toward me.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then she said quietly, "I kept thinking about my mother."
I swallowed.
"Why?"
"Because I wondered whether this was how it started for her."
Her voice cracked.
"One accusation. One planted piece of evidence. A few people who already believed the worst."
I stepped closer.
"I believe you."
She looked into my eyes.
"I know."
The words were simple.
But they nearly broke me.
I wanted to pull her into my arms.
Instead, I asked, "Would you like a ride home?"
She nodded.
"Yes, please."
We drove in silence for a while.
Then Grace turned toward me.
"Did you find anything?"
I told her about the camera.
Vivian.
Garrick Shaw.
The photograph.
She listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she stared out the window.
"They're not just trying to frighten me."
"No."
"They want me gone."
"Yes."
She lowered her eyes.
"Maybe I should leave."
My chest tightened.
"Do you want to?"
"I don't know."
"Then don't decide because someone threatened you."
She looked at me.
"Nathan, I'm not trying to be brave for the sake of bravery. I don't want to die proving a point."
I nodded.
"Neither do I."
She turned toward me.
"Then promise me something."
"What?"
"If the truth becomes dangerous, don't make yourself a hero just because you think you owe my mother something."
I glanced at her.
"Why?"
"Because I'm not asking you to die for me."
Her voice softened.
"I'm asking you to help me make sure what happened to her doesn't happen again."
I understood the difference.
And it mattered.
When we reached the estate, Eli was waiting.
He hurried toward Grace.
"Are you okay?"
She smiled weakly.
"I've had better days."
He hugged her carefully.
Then he stepped back.
"Leah called."
Grace straightened.
"What did she say?"
"She was frightened. She said a man had come to the clinic asking questions about her."
My stomach tightened.
"Did she recognize him?"
"She wouldn't say."
"Where is she now?" Grace asked.
Eli swallowed.
"That's the problem."
"What problem?"
"I called her back. Her phone went straight to voicemail."
I immediately contacted the medical clinic.
The receptionist checked the records.
"Ms. Morales left approximately forty minutes ago."
"With whom?"
"We don't have that information, sir."
"Did she discharge herself?"
"She signed out. She appeared upset."
I asked whether the staff had notified law enforcement of the threats she previously reported.
The receptionist said they had contacted the assigned investigator.
I ended the call and turned toward Grace.
"Leah left the clinic."
Grace grabbed her phone.
"Why would she do that?"
Before I could answer, my phone vibrated.
An audio message had arrived from Leah's number.
I pressed play.
Her voice was shaking.
"Nathan, I'm sorry. They sent me a photograph of Maya outside her school. They said they would take her if I didn't come alone."
I felt my heart pounding.
Grace covered her mouth.
Leah continued.
"I don't know whether they really have her. I don't know what to do."
Then a man's voice sounded in the background.
"Enough."
A muffled movement followed.
Leah cried out.
The recording ended.
May you like
Immediately, another message appeared.
"If you want Leah Morales alive, tell Grace Ellis to stop looking for her mother's missing audit."
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