Chapter 7: The Master Stroke
The next two weeks were a masterclass in deception. Arthur played the part of the broken, defeated man perfectly. He allowed Eleanor and Victoria to believe they had won. He agreed to reschedule the wedding, letting Victoria plan a lavish gala to announce the new date.
Behind closed doors, a storm was brewing.
A trusted, out-of-state doctor came in the dead of night. New swabs were taken. The results returned in 48 hours: 99.9% probability of paternity. Arthur wept when he read it, clutching his children while they slept.
Meanwhile, David’s investigation yielded terrifying results. Elena hadn't just run away. Eleanor had hired men to threaten her. They faked a car crash, kidnapped her, and forced her onto a cargo ship to South America, telling her that if she ever contacted Arthur, they would kill him.
But the most shocking discovery came late one Tuesday night.
"Arthur," David said, sliding a blurry photograph across the desk. "She's not dead."
Arthur stopped breathing. "What?"
"The letter said her 'time was running out' due to illness. She sent the kids ahead with a smuggler she trusted. We tracked the origin of the letter. It came from a charity hospice in Mexico. She’s alive, Arthur. But barely."
Arthur’s grip on the desk was tight enough to splinter the wood. His mother had not only stolen his children's early years, but she had condemned the love of his life to die in a foreign slum.
"The gala is tomorrow," Arthur said, his voice hollow but vibrating with a terrifying intensity.
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"Are you going to cancel it?" David asked.
"No," Arthur looked up, his eyes cold as a glacier. "Let them have their party. Let all their high-society friends, the press, and the board members come. Let them stand in the spotlight. Because I am going to burn their world to ashes in front of everyone."
