Chapter 3: The Sanctuary of St. Jude
Leaving the gala in an uproar, Vivienne refused to return to the Cross-Sterling penthouse. Instead, she ordered her private driver, Mateo, to take her, Leo, and her personal nurse, Elena, to the quiet convent of St. Jude on the northern outskirts of the city.
The ancient stone chapel smelled of beeswax, dried lavender, and rain.
Sitting in the modest parlor, an elderly nun with gentle, deeply creased eyes poured warm chamomile tea into simple ceramic mugs.
""I wondered how long it would take the truth to find its way to you, Lady Vivienne,"" Sister Teresa said softly, handing Leo a slice of warm honey bread.
""They told me he died,"" Vivienne wept, sitting in her wheelchair beside the crackling stone hearth. ""Julian showed me official consular death certificates. My father told me the entire village was swallowed by the mudslide.""
Sister Teresa shook her head with quiet sorrow. ""Your father’s foundation had billions invested in the mining concessions across that valley. Acknowledging that his mining operations caused the deforestation and subsequent landslide would have bankrupted the family firm. They sealed the records, paid off the regional commissioner, and sent you to Switzerland.""
Vivienne looked at Leo, who was quietly eating his bread, kicking his sneakers against the wooden chair leg. ""How did he survive?""
""A local farmer pulled the baby from beneath the surgical cot after the rescuers left,"" Sister Teresa explained. ""He brought him to our orphanage in the foothills. The only thing the boy had was a medical intake tag around his ankle—with your name, your blood type, and a note written in surgical marker: *'My son’s hand belongs to the doctor with the green eyes.'*""
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Vivienne buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent, cathartic sobs. Eight years of grief, eight years of feeling broken and incomplete, collapsed into the sacred warmth of the stone chapel.
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