Chapter 6 - THE SILENCE OF BEATRICE
A week after the raid,
Special Agent Miller visited me with a transcript of Beatrice Vance’s interrogation.
The woman who had applauded my assault had apparently found her voice in custody.
But it wasn't a voice of apology,
it was a voice of pure,
unadulterated vanity.
“She spent three hours complaining about the quality of the prison blankets,”
Miller said,
sitting in the chair next to my bed.
“And then she tried to blame everything on you.”
“She claimed you were the one who manipulated Julian into the affair.”
I shook my head,
the sheer delusion of the Vance family never ceasing to amaze me.
“She wanted a 'true heir,'”
I recalled,
the words still stinging.
“She thought Chloe was the future because I was 'barren.'”
“The medical records I gave you prove that Arthur was the one who tampered with my fertility treatments,”
I said,
the memory of that discovery still a raw wound.
Miller nodded,
his face grim,
“We found the doctor he paid off.”
“Arthur wanted to control the timing of an heir for tax purposes.”
“He didn't want you to have a child until he could secure the trust in a specific way.”
The cruelty of it was breathtaking,
a man who would sabotage his own daughter-in-law’s body for a financial maneuver.
I had wondered for years why I couldn't conceive,
blaming myself,
crying into my pillow while Julian mocked me.
And all the while,
my father-in-law was the one holding the syringe.
“He’s being charged with medical battery along with the fraud,”
Miller informed me.
“It’s a separate trial,
but it will ensure he never sees the sun again.”
I looked out the window,
thinking of the years I had lost to their games.
I had been a piece on Arthur’s chessboard,
a decorative object to be moved or discarded as he saw fit.
But he had made one mistake.
He had assumed I was as soulless as he was.
He had assumed I wouldn't care about the truth if I had a designer life.
“The public is on your side,
Clara,”
Miller said.
“The video of the baby shower was leaked to the press.”
“Not by us,”
he added quickly,
“one of the guests recorded it on their phone.”
The image of me flying into the cupcakes was the top story on every news channel.
The world saw Julian Vance for what he was:
a coward who hit his pregnant wife while his parents cheered.
The 'Vance' name,
once a symbol of prestige,
was now a synonym for depravity.
“I don't want the fame,”
I told Miller.
“I just want the safety.”
“You’ll have it,”
he promised.
“The witness protection program is an option,”
“but with the Vances in jail,
you might not need it.”
“We’re freezing their assets to pay back the people they defrauded,”
“but your personal inheritance from your father is protected.”
I was going to be fine.
Leo was going to be fine.
May you like
The applause of the Vances had been a death knell for their own empire.
And the silence of Beatrice Vance was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.
