Chapter 4 - The Truth Hidden Behind My Daughter’s Death
Alexander was back in Toronto before sunrise.
This time, I let him into my apartment.
Not because I trusted him.
Because Michael Trent had said enough to destroy the little stability I had rebuilt.
Alexander stood near the door while I replayed the call from memory.
Every word.
Every pause.
Every frightened breath.
When I finished, his face had gone frighteningly calm.
That calm was worse than rage.
“Say something,” I whispered.
He looked toward Grace’s urn.
“I am going to find him.”
“And?”
“And make sure he stays alive.”
“For answers?”
“For court.”
I studied him.
“Court?”
“You told me Grace cannot be an excuse for me to become worse.”
“And you listened?”
“I’m trying.”
I sat down.
Alexander remained standing.
“What did Michael mean by ‘gone long enough’?”
“I have people searching every property linked to Olivia, her father, Michael, and my family.”
My family.
The way he said it made me look up.
“You think Victoria knew?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you suspect her.”
He rubbed a hand over his face.
“My mother always believed Olivia should have been my wife.”
“That isn’t exactly a secret.”
“No.”
“Did she hate me enough to hurt Grace?”
Alexander’s head snapped up.
“No.”
“You sounded certain.”
“My mother loved Grace.”
“So did you.”
The words came out before I could stop them.
Alexander looked like I had struck him.
I closed my eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“I’m angry.”
“You should be.”
“I don’t know where to put it.”
“Put it on me.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“That’s the problem. For months I have put everything on you.”
“You should.”
“No.”
He stared at me.
“You forgot Grace. You failed her. That is real.”
My voice trembled.
“But if other people manipulated that day, then they also failed her. And if someone intended to use my child as a weapon against my marriage…”
I could barely finish.
Alexander sat across from me.
“Then we find out.”
The investigation widened.
For the first time, Alexander shared everything with me.
Not filtered details.
Not explanations designed to protect me.
Everything.
His security chief, Caleb Warren, sent encrypted files showing vehicle movements near Grace’s preschool.
A dark blue sedan appeared twice that afternoon.
Once at three-ten.
Again at three-forty.
The plates were fake.
The car disappeared from Chicago records after that day.
One camera angle showed a woman leaving the vehicle.
Hat.
Sunglasses.
Long coat.
No clear face.
She walked toward the preschool but turned away before reaching the entrance.
At three-fifty-eight, Grace left through the side door.
The woman followed from across the street.
My stomach turned.
“She was followed?”
Alexander nodded.
“Why didn’t the police find this?”
“They did not know what to look for.”
“Or someone made sure they didn’t.”
His expression darkened.
“That too.”
We contacted the detective who had originally handled the accident.
Detective Samuel Reed had been two months from retirement.
He agreed to meet us in Toronto.
When he arrived, he looked uncomfortable.
“Mrs. Hayes,” he said, “I owe you an apology.”
My chest tightened.
“For what?”
“There were pieces of the case that never made sense.”
“Then why didn’t you investigate?”
He looked at Alexander.
“That is a complicated answer.”
Alexander leaned forward.
“Make it simple.”
Reed did.
A deputy superintendent had instructed the department to treat Grace’s death as an ordinary traffic accident.
No suspicious angle.
No family inquiry.
No review of the missing-child timeline.
“Who gave the order?” I asked.
Reed hesitated.
Alexander’s voice dropped.
“Name him.”
“Deputy Superintendent Harold Kane.”
Alexander’s face changed.
I recognized the name.
Kane attended Hayes charity events.
He had dinner at Victoria’s house.
He had once stood beside Grace at a Christmas fundraiser and helped her place a star on a tree.
“Why would Kane interfere?” I asked.
Reed looked miserable.
“I don’t know.”
Alexander did.
“Kane owes my mother.”
I stared at him.
“For what?”
“His son had gambling debts. My father covered them years ago.”
My stomach twisted.
“So Victoria could call him.”
“Yes.”
“Did she?”
“I don’t know.”
It became harder to believe in coincidences.
Then Michael Trent reappeared.
Alive.
Barely.
Alexander’s men found him at a clinic outside Detroit.
Someone had beaten him badly and left him in an abandoned warehouse.
He had broken ribs, a fractured wrist, and injuries that required surgery.
Alexander arranged private protection.
I agreed to speak with Michael by video.
The man on the screen looked nothing like the polished assistant I remembered.
His face was swollen.
One eye nearly closed.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
The apology made me furious.
“You took money.”
“Yes.”
“You lied to Grace’s teacher.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she was waiting.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He began crying.
“I thought someone else was picking her up.”
“Who?”
“Olivia said a driver was already coming.”
“Why didn’t you verify?”
“I was stupid.”
“No.”
My voice sharpened.
“You were greedy.”
He lowered his eyes.
“Yes.”
Alexander sat beside me but said nothing.
I continued.
“What was the plan?”
Michael swallowed.
“Olivia wanted to make Mrs. Hayes believe Mr. Hayes was choosing her over the family.”
“That was true,” I said.
Alexander flinched.
Michael continued.
“She wanted photographs from the party to circulate.”
“Madison’s post?”
“No. That wasn’t planned. Madison did that herself.”
Alexander muttered something under his breath.
“She wanted Emily upset,” Michael said. “Wanted arguments. Distance. She believed if the marriage broke, Mr. Hayes would return to her.”
“Delusional,” Alexander said.
Michael looked at him.
“She didn’t think so.”
“What about Grace?” I asked.
Michael’s eyes filled with shame.
“Olivia said Grace would be picked up late. She thought Mrs. Hayes would blame Mr. Hayes.”
“That’s all?”
“At first.”
“At first?”
Michael looked away.
“Two weeks before the accident, she asked whether Grace ever traveled without security.”
My blood froze.
Alexander leaned forward.
“Why?”
“She said she might arrange for Grace to spend a few hours somewhere.”
“Kidnap her?” I whispered.
Michael nodded.
“I told her no.”
“You still kept working for her.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
Alexander stood abruptly.
I grabbed his wrist.
“Sit down.”
He looked at my hand.
Then at me.
Slowly, he sat.
Michael continued.
“I thought she abandoned that idea.”
“But?”
“The day Grace died, she told me everything was finally happening.”
My mouth went dry.
“What was happening?”
“She said Emily would be gone before the week ended.”
The room felt colder.
“Did she arrange the woman near the school?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who else was involved?”
“Her father.”
Alexander swore.
“Thomas Carter?”
Michael nodded.
“And your mother.”
Silence.
Alexander’s face went white.
I stared at Michael.
“What did you say?”
“Mrs. Hayes.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Victoria?”
“Yes.”
Alexander stood.
“No.”
Michael recoiled.
“Boss—”
“My mother loved Grace.”
“I didn’t say she wanted Grace hurt.”
“Then explain.”
Michael swallowed.
“Mrs. Hayes wanted Emily gone.”
Alexander looked at me.
The words seemed to hang between us.
“She believed Olivia belonged with you,” Michael continued. “She funded part of the plan.”
Alexander’s face became empty.
“What part?”
“The photographs. The planted messages. Making Emily believe you and Olivia were having an affair.”
I remembered the necklace.
The private dinners.
All the small humiliations.
“Was the necklace planted?” I asked.
Michael nodded.
My stomach twisted.
“Olivia put it on deliberately.”
Alexander’s hands curled into fists.
“Did my mother know about the kidnapping idea?”
“I don’t know.”
“Answer me.”
“I don’t know.”
That uncertainty became our next nightmare.
We returned to Chicago.
I had not planned to go back.
But Grace had died there.
If someone had used her, I needed to face them in the city where they thought they owned the truth.
Alexander offered me a room at one of his hotels.
I refused.
I stayed with my college friend Claire Morrison in Lincoln Park.
The first night, I visited Grace’s grave.
Alexander did not come.
He understood without being told.
I sat on the damp grass.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
The stone was small.
GRACE EVELYN HAYES.
BELOVED DAUGHTER.
I touched her name.
“Mommy is trying.”
Wind moved through the trees.
Nothing answered.
The next morning, Victoria Hayes requested to see me.
I agreed.
Her estate looked unchanged.
That offended me.
Same white columns.
Same manicured hedges.
Same ridiculous fountain.
How could a place remain beautiful after the world ended?
Victoria waited in the library.
She looked older.
“Emily.”
“Did you pay Michael?”
Her face changed.
No greeting.
No performance.
Good.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
The room disappeared for a second.
I had expected it.
Hearing it still hurt.
“Why?”
“I thought my son was unhappy.”
“So you destroyed his marriage?”
“I wanted him to reconsider his choices.”
“His choices?”
“You and Alexander were always fighting.”
“Marriage involves fighting.”
“He loved Olivia first.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“He married me.”
“He married you because you were pregnant.”
That was true.
Grace had been conceived before our wedding.
But Alexander had asked me to marry him before we knew I was pregnant.
Victoria either did not know that or chose to forget.
“You wanted me gone.”
“Yes.”
“And Grace?”
Her eyes filled.
“Never.”
“Did you know Olivia planned to take her?”
“No.”
“Did you know Michael lied to the school?”
“No.”
“Did you call Harold Kane after Grace died?”
Silence.
My pulse quickened.
“Victoria.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She began crying.
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That the investigation would reveal what I had done.”
I stared at her.
“You buried evidence to protect yourself.”
“I didn’t know Grace had been followed.”
“You didn’t care enough to find out.”
Her face crumpled.
“I thought it was an accident.”
“So you made sure no one could discover whether it wasn’t.”
She covered her mouth.
I stepped backward.
“You are no better than Alexander.”
She flinched.
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You’re worse.”
The library door opened.
Alexander stood there.
He had heard everything.
Victoria looked at him.
“Alexander.”
He stared at his mother like she was a stranger.
“You called Kane?”
She began to cry harder.
“Son—”
“Do not call me that.”
Her face broke.
“I was trying to protect the family.”
“My daughter was the family.”
Silence.
Alexander stepped into the room.
“All these years, you kept telling me loyalty was everything.”
“Alexander—”
“You destroyed mine.”
He looked at me.
Then back at Victoria.
“You will give the police everything.”
Her eyes widened.
“What?”
“Every account. Every message. Every payment.”
“You can’t.”
“I can.”
“I am your mother.”
“And Grace was my daughter.”
Victoria began shaking.
“You would send me to prison?”
Alexander’s answer came without hesitation.
“Yes.”
For the first time, I understood that he truly had changed.
Not enough to bring Grace back.
Never enough for that.
But enough to stop protecting blood at any cost.
May you like
Enough to choose truth over the empire that raised him.
And that decision would nearly get him killed.
