Chapter 8
The grand penthouse living room felt entirely different with Evelyn present. The seventy-year-old woman possessed an innate grace and an iron will that immediately commanded the space. She had gone straight to the nursery upon arriving, spending an hour holding Lily in her rocking chair, whispering gentle lullabies and inspecting the medical equipment with the sharp eye of a retired pediatric nurse. Now, she stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding a porcelain teacup as David walked through the front door.
"You look terrible, David," Evelyn said without turning around, her voice steady and laced with restrained fury.
"I've slept two hours in forty-eight vision, Evelyn," David replied, dropping his keys onto the entryway console and loosening his tie. "The police have charged Elena with attempted murder and grand larceny. She won't be making bail."
Evelyn finally turned, her piercing green eyes—the exact shade of Lily’s—locking onto his. "Good. Because if the justice system failed her, I was prepared to handle that woman myself. Clara would never have forgiven us for letting someone like Elena anywhere near her daughter."
David flinched at the mention of Clara, his late wife whose memory still haunted the hallways of the penthouse. "I thought I was giving Lily a mother figure. I thought Elena genuinely cared about building a family with us."
"Elena only cares about Elena," Evelyn stated coldly, walking over to the glass desk and picking up a printed summary of the financial audits. "Clara saw right through her charm the day they met at that charity gala three years ago. But Clara was too gentle, too trusting—traits you clearly inherited."
"What do you mean?" David asked, stepping closer. "Did Clara know something about her?"
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"Not specifics," Evelyn sighed, setting her teacup down with a soft click. "Just instincts. Clara told me once that Elena looked at people the way a collector looks at rare insects—objects to be cataloged, displayed, and discarded when they lost their novelty. When Clara passed away so suddenly from that unexpected respiratory failure... I always wondered, David. Have you had Clara’s autopsy reports re-examined?"
The question hung in the air like a physical blow. David stared at his mother-in-law, the blood draining from his face as the terrifying implications of her words cascaded through his mind. If Elena was capable of starving two-year-old Lily of oxygen for financial gain, what had she done to Clara three years prior?
