CHAPTER 9: Clara on the Screen
The woman on the screen was thinner than the photograph, older by fear, but unmistakably Clara. She sat in a small motel room with rain tapping the window behind her. A baby slept against her chest.
Edward made a sound that seemed torn from his bones.
Clara looked into the camera.
“Dad, if you are seeing this, it means I failed to come home.”
Guests covered their mouths. Daniel stepped backward as if struck.
Clara continued. “I was told you wanted me gone. I believed it for too long. Then Samuel showed me the documents. Your signature was forged. The trust was changed. The foundation accounts were moved. Victoria said if I came back, she would make sure my daughter disappeared into a system no one could trace.”
Every eye turned to Victoria.
Her face had become stone.
On the screen, Clara kissed the baby’s forehead. “Her name is Lily. She has your eyes when she is angry. She laughs at thunder. She deserves the family that was stolen from her.”
Lily stared at the screen, crying silently. She had only known her mother as tired, frightened, and gentle. Seeing her young, fierce, and alive inside the recording broke something open in her chest.
Clara’s voice softened. “Samuel, if you kept her safe, thank you. Dad, if you ever find her, please don’t let them call her nothing.”
The recording ended.
For several seconds, the ballroom held its breath.
Then Edward turned to Victoria.
“You touched my granddaughter,” he said.
Victoria swallowed.
“You put your hands on her face,” he continued. “You ordered her thrown into the rain. You stood in my house and called her nothing.”
May you like
Victoria whispered, “Edward, I can explain.”
“No,” he said. “You had eleven years.”
