Chapter 6 - The Matriarch's Shadow
I stared at Arthur, unable to comprehend the words coming out of his mouth.
"Eleanor?" I gasped, the name tasting like ash on my tongue. "Marcus's mother?"
Arthur nodded slowly, his expression hardened with bitter, familial disgust.
"Mother never approved of your marriage," Arthur explained, turning a page in the thick dossier.
"She believed you were an outsider who would dilute the Vance family bloodline and influence."
I remembered the cold smiles, the passive-aggressive remarks at family dinners, the subtle insults about my modest background.
I knew Eleanor disliked me, but murder felt beyond the scope of even her ruthless vanity.
"When Isabella became Mother’s personal protege two years ago, the trap was set," Arthur continued.
"Eleanor promised Isabella that Marcus would marry her once you were quietly removed from the picture."
"And Marcus knew this?" I asked, my chest heaving with overwhelming betrayal and shock.
"Marcus suspected Isabella, but he refused to believe his own mother was capable of orchestrating your death," Arthur said.
"That's why he planted the hidden camera in your hospital room yesterday," Arthur revealed.
I looked at Arthur, completely startled. "I thought you planted that camera."
"I took the credit yesterday to protect Marcus from Isabella's immediate retaliation," Arthur admitted.
"Marcus installed the system an hour before you woke up, suspecting Isabella would try to corner you while you were vulnerable."
The realization washed over me like a tidal wave of conflicting, chaotic emotions.
Marcus hadn't struck Isabella out of mere shock; he had watched his worst fears materialize before his eyes.
The door to the room suddenly opened, and Detective Miller walked in, flanked by two uniformed officers.
"Mrs. Vance, I apologize for the interruption, but we have a severe development," Miller said, his face grim.
Arthur stood up immediately, adopting his sharp corporate defense posture. "What happened, Detective?"
"Isabella Vance—or rather, Isabella Sterling—has posted bail," Miller announced.
My breath caught in my throat. "Bail? For attempted murder on a pregnant woman?"
"The magistrate set bail at two million dollars cash at dawn," Miller explained, looking frustrated.
"A private courier arrived with a certified cashier's check forty-five minutes later."
"Who signed the check?" Arthur demanded, stepping toward the detective with clenched fists.
Miller pulled a small carbon slip from his breast pocket and read the signature aloud.
"Eleanor Vance."
The room seemed to drop ten degrees in an instant.
"Where is Eleanor now?" Arthur asked, his voice shaking with pure fury.
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"That's why I'm here," Miller said, looking directly into my wide, terrified eyes.
"Eleanor Vance's private security team just signed into the hospital's visitor desk downstairs."
