. CHAPTER 7 — The Senator Arrives
Senator Richard Bellamy arrived with cameras he had not invited.
The cemetery road filled with headlights, then with people—his aides, his personal security, two local officers, and a campaign photographer who looked increasingly unsure whether he was documenting control or collapse. The senator emerged from the rear SUV in a charcoal overcoat, silver hair perfect, face arranged in practiced concern.
“Charlotte,” he said first.
Not my name. Not the blood on my mouth. Not the pregnant woman sitting in the dirt by a grave.
That told me everything.
Charlotte hurried to him like a child returning stolen matches. “Daddy, Mr. Cross is making accusations. She set this up.”
The senator’s eyes flicked to Gabriel, then to the folder, then finally to me. There was no surprise in his face. Only calculation.
“Gabriel,” he said warmly, as if meeting an old friend at a club. “This is a painful place for all of us. Let’s not turn grief into spectacle.”
Gabriel’s voice was flat. “You turned grief into an empire.”
A silence spread.
Senator Bellamy smiled for the aides. “Eleanor Wren was troubled. We helped her. Sadly, she filled her daughter’s head with fantasies.”
I pushed myself up despite the doctor’s warning. Gabriel reached to steady me, but I shook my head. I needed to stand.
My knees trembled. My cheek burned. My belly felt heavy beneath my palm. But when I faced the senator, I heard my mother’s voice telling me to remember everything.
“You called her troubled because she kept proof,” I said.
The senator’s smile thinned. “Young woman, you should sit down.”
“No.” I held up the ring. “She wore this when she married Gabriel Cross. She hid the photograph because you threatened her. She cleaned your house because you trapped her there. And you let your daughter hit me on my mother’s grave because you thought I was still alone.”
Charlotte whispered, “Shut up.”
But I did not.
“She told me to come here if they cornered me,” I said. “Because she knew cowards always return to graves. They come to make sure the dead stay quiet.”
One of Gabriel’s men turned a tablet outward.
On the screen was cemetery security footage from a camera mounted on the iron gate.
Charlotte’s slap played clearly.
Then her threat.
Then her heel on the ring.
May you like
The senator’s campaign photographer lowered his camera.
But another camera, from a news van that had arrived behind Gabriel’s cars, kept recording.
