CHAPTER 11 — LAUREN'S LAST MOVE
CHAPTER 11 — LAUREN'S LAST MOVE
The photograph remained on the table.
Four babies.
Four names.
And one truth that had just shattered everything I thought I understood.
VICTORIA.
My fourth sister.
Alive.
Twenty-nine years old.
And, according to my mother, the woman at the center of the Black Crown.
I stared at the photograph until the letters blurred.
"You're saying my sister runs the Black Crown?"
My mother nodded.
"I don't know if she runs all of it."
"Then what do you know?"
"That she was raised by them."
My father remained silent.
I turned toward him.
"You knew."
"No."
"Not about her."
He shook his head.
"I knew there was a fourth embryo. I never knew she survived."
"Then how did Mom know?"
My mother looked down.
"Because I saw her."
My heart stopped.
"When?"
"Six months ago."
"Where?"
She hesitated.
"At the hospital."
I remembered the old records.
The missing fertility files.
The Blackridge laboratory.
The same hospital where my life had begun falling apart.
"You saw her?"
My mother nodded.
"She came to me."
"What did she say?"
My mother looked terrified.
"She called me Mother."
The room fell silent.
"What did you say?"
"I told her I didn't know who she was."
"Did she believe you?"
"No."
My mother closed her eyes.
"She said she knew everything."
"What everything?"
"About you."
My stomach tightened.
"What did she know?"
"Your marriage."
"Matthew?"
"Your company."
"The accident."
"The fertility treatment."
"The Black Crown."
My mother looked at me.
"She knew all of it."
I whispered:
"Then why didn't she kill me?"
My mother shook her head.
"Because she didn't want you dead."
"What did she want?"
My mother's answer was almost inaudible.
"She wanted you to understand."
At that exact moment, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a woman's voice whispered:
"Clare."
I froze.
"Who is this?"
A soft laugh.
"You already know."
"Victoria?"
Silence.
Then:
"Good."
My mother grabbed my wrist.
I put the call on speaker.
Victoria continued.
"You're asking the wrong questions again."
I looked at my father.
"Then tell me the right one."
"Ask why Lauren is still alive."
My blood ran cold.
"What?"
Victoria laughed softly.
"Your husband's mistress."
"Where is she?"
"That's the question."
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
My father immediately called Daniel.
No answer.
He called the hospital.
Lauren was gone.
Her room was empty.
Her medical records had been removed.
Even the security footage had been erased.
I looked at my father.
"She took Lauren."
"No."
My father shook his head.
"Lauren left."
"How do you know?"
"Because the security system shows no forced entry."
My mother whispered:
"Then Lauren is working with her."
I remembered Lauren's words.
The woman.
I remembered the photograph.
Lauren had known about Mara.
She had known about the replacement.
She had known about the Black Crown.
Maybe she had known everything.
I felt sick.
"She lied to me."
My father nodded.
"Probably."
"Why?"
"To get close to you."
I stood.
"Then we find her."
Lauren was three hundred miles away.
She sat inside a motel room overlooking a highway.
Her hair was tied back.
Her bruises were fading.
On the table in front of her was a laptop.
Beside it sat a small black envelope.
She opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Clare.
Matthew.
And herself.
Lauren touched Clare's face.
"I'm sorry."
A voice came from behind her.
"You've said that enough."
Lauren turned.
Victoria stood in the doorway.
She looked almost exactly like Clare.
But there was something different in her eyes.
Something colder.
Older.
Victoria walked toward the table.
"Did you get it?"
Lauren nodded.
She handed her the laptop.
"Everything."
Victoria opened the file.
Thousands of documents appeared.
Medical records.
Bank transfers.
Private messages.
Photographs.
And one folder labeled:
MATTHEW HAYES — PERSONAL CONFESSION.
Victoria smiled.
"Good."
Lauren looked uneasy.
"You promised nobody would get hurt."
Victoria closed the laptop.
"I promised you wouldn't get hurt."
"What about Clare?"
Victoria looked at her.
"She'll survive."
"And Matthew?"
"He made his choice."
Lauren shook her head.
"You said this would expose the Black Crown."
"It will."
"Then why are you still hiding?"
Victoria's expression changed.
"Because exposure isn't the same as justice."
She walked toward the window.
"Justice requires someone to carry the blame."
Lauren stared at her.
"Who?"
Victoria turned.
"Me."
At dawn, I received a package.
No return address.
Inside was a phone.
One video.
I pressed play.
Lauren appeared on screen.
She was sitting alone.
Her face was pale.
Her voice shook.
"Clare, if you're watching this, I'm probably already dead."
My stomach dropped.
She continued.
"I lied to you."
I closed my eyes.
"I met Matthew before you did."
My father looked at me.
"What?"
Lauren continued.
"Seven years ago, I was hired by the Hayes family."
I stared at the screen.
"My job was simple."
"Get close to Matthew."
"Find out whether he loved you."
"If he did, they wanted me to destroy the marriage."
My hands tightened.
Lauren's eyes filled with tears.
"But I didn't expect to fall in love with him."
I looked away.
The pain was strange.
I thought I had already exhausted every possible betrayal.
Apparently not.
Lauren continued.
"Matthew never loved me the way you think."
"He used me."
"I used him."
"And somewhere in the middle, I realized what they were doing to you."
She paused.
"That's when I started keeping records."
The video changed.
Documents appeared.
Lauren had recorded conversations.
Matthew discussing the divorce.
Matthew discussing the company.
Matthew discussing Clare's mental health.
Matthew discussing Mara.
Then a recording played.
Matthew's voice.
"If Clare doesn't sign, we activate Mara."
Another voice answered.
"Victoria won't allow that."
Matthew said:
"Victoria doesn't care about Clare."
The recording ended.
I stared at the screen.
"Victoria."
Lauren appeared again.
"There is something else."
She leaned closer.
"Victoria isn't the leader."
I froze.
"What?"
Lauren whispered:
"She's the daughter they were waiting for."
The video ended.
My father immediately began searching the Black Crown files.
"There has to be something."
Elena sat beside him.
"What are we looking for?"
"Any mention of Victoria."
Amara searched another database.
"Nothing."
"Try genetic records."
"Already did."
"Birth records."
"Nothing."
"Hospital records."
"Nothing."
I looked at the screen.
"Because she was never registered."
My father nodded.
"Exactly."
"So how do we find her?"
A voice came from the doorway.
"You don't."
We turned.
Daniel stood there.
His clothes were dirty.
His face was bruised.
He looked like he'd been fighting for his life.
My father rushed toward him.
"Where have you been?"
Daniel looked at me.
"Following Lauren."
My heart jumped.
"Where is she?"
"Alive."
"Where?"
"With Victoria."
I stepped closer.
"Take me there."
Daniel shook his head.
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because Victoria wants you alone."
My father immediately said:
"No."
Daniel continued.
"She said if anyone follows Clare, Lauren dies."
Silence.
I looked at my father.
Then Elena.
Then Amara.
"I'll go."
"No."
"Dad."
"No."
"She has Lauren."
"We'll find another way."
"There isn't one."
My father looked devastated.
"I just got you back."
I took his hand.
"And I'm not leaving."
That night, I went alone.
The address led to an abandoned theater.
The building had been closed for twenty years.
Inside, rows of empty seats disappeared into darkness.
A single spotlight illuminated the stage.
Lauren sat in the center.
Her hands were tied.
I stepped forward.
"Lauren."
She looked up.
"Clare."
"Are you hurt?"
She shook her head.
"No."
"Where is Victoria?"
A voice came from the balcony.
"Behind you."
I turned.
She stood there.
Victoria.
My sister.
She slowly descended the stairs.
Every step echoed through the empty theater.
When she reached the stage, she stopped in front of me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she smiled.
"You look like Mother."
I whispered:
"So do you."
She laughed.
"I was told I looked like you."
"Who told you?"
"Augustus."
I froze.
"He raised you?"
"Not exactly."
"Then who?"
She looked toward the darkness.
"The Black Crown."
"What did they do to you?"
"Everything."
Her voice changed.
"They taught me to hate you."
My heart tightened.
"Why?"
"Because you got the life I was supposed to have."
"I didn't choose it."
"I know."
She stepped closer.
"You were raised by our father."
"Yes."
"You went to school."
"Yes."
"You had friends."
"Yes."
"You fell in love."
"Yes."
"You married."
"Yes."
"You built a company."
"Yes."
She stared at me.
"I watched all of it."
My heart broke.
"Why didn't you come to me?"
"Because I thought you were my enemy."
"And now?"
She looked at me.
"Now I know you weren't."
I took a breath.
"Then let Lauren go."
Victoria shook her head.
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because she still owes me."
Lauren whispered:
"I told you everything."
"Not everything."
Victoria looked at her.
Lauren's face changed.
"What?"
Victoria turned toward me.
"Ask her what she did the night you were attacked."
I looked at Lauren.
She began crying.
"I didn't hurt you."
"What did you do?"
"I was there."
My blood ran cold.
"When?"
"The night Matthew hit you."
I froze.
"You were there?"
She nodded.
"I came to the penthouse."
"Why?"
"To stop him."
"Did you?"
"No."
She broke down.
"I was afraid."
I stared at her.
"You watched."
"I tried."
"You watched."
"I called someone."
"Who?"
"Your father."
My heart stopped.
"My father knew?"
"He arrived after Matthew left."
I turned toward Victoria.
"Is that true?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
I couldn't breathe.
My father had told me security arrived.
He had never said he came himself.
I whispered:
"Why did he hide it?"
Victoria answered:
"Because he found something."
"What?"
She handed me a photograph.
It showed Matthew standing over me.
The cane in his hand.
But behind him—
another person stood in the doorway.
My father.
Watching.
His face was filled with horror.
I stared at the photograph.
"Why?"
Victoria whispered:
"Because your father didn't arrive after the attack."
"He was there before it began."
I couldn't speak.
Everything inside me went numb.
My father had told me he was on the road.
He had said he didn't know.
But the photograph showed otherwise.
Victoria stepped closer.
"He knew Matthew was going to hurt you."
"No."
"He knew."
"No."
"He let it happen."
"No."
She handed me another photograph.
My father speaking to Matthew.
Hours before the attack.
Then another.
My father handing Matthew the cane.
My blood ran cold.
"No."
Victoria's voice softened.
"He didn't know Matthew would hit you twenty times."
I stared at her.
"But he knew there would be violence."
I closed my eyes.
My father's words returned.
Stay alive.
I'm already on the road.
He had sounded terrified.
But maybe he wasn't surprised.
Maybe he knew.
Maybe he had been waiting.
I suddenly understood the title of every lie he had told me.
Protection.
Silence.
Waiting.
All of it.
I looked at Lauren.
"You knew."
She nodded.
"I knew."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because your father threatened to destroy my family."
My heart sank.
Victoria stepped backward.
"Now you understand."
"Understand what?"
"Your father wasn't waiting for you to become strong."
She looked directly at me.
"He was waiting for you to become useful."
I returned to the Sterling estate before sunrise.
My father was in the library.
He looked at me.
"You came back."
I placed the photographs on the desk.
His face went white.
"Clare."
"Tell me the truth."
He looked at the photographs.
"I can explain."
"Did you know?"
He closed his eyes.
"Yes."
"Did you know Matthew was going to hurt me?"
"I knew he was unstable."
"Did you give him the cane?"
He didn't answer.
I screamed:
"Did you?"
He whispered:
"Yes."
The room went silent.
My father sat down.
"I thought the cane would frighten him."
"You gave him the weapon."
"I didn't know."
"You knew enough."
He covered his face.
"I was wrong."
"Why?"
"Because I thought fear would force him to back away from you."
"And instead?"
"He hurt you."
I stared at him.
"You watched."
"I arrived too late."
"The photograph says otherwise."
He looked at me.
"I arrived before."
My heart broke.
"Why didn't you stop him?"
"Because I thought if I confronted him, the Black Crown would kill you."
"You chose to let him hurt me."
"I chose what I believed was the lesser evil."
I shook my head.
"There was never a lesser evil."
My father began crying.
"I know."
I turned away.
Then stopped.
"Where is the fourth file?"
He looked at me.
"What?"
"The real one."
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do."
He stared.
I stepped closer.
"Lauren told me."
His expression changed.
"Lauren?"
"She said you've been hiding the truth for years."
He looked defeated.
Then he opened the bottom drawer.
Removed a file.
Placed it before me.
"The fourth file isn't about Victoria."
I opened it.
Inside was one photograph.
A young woman.
Not Victoria.
Not Mara.
Not my mother.
Not anyone I recognized.
I looked at my father.
"Who is this?"
He whispered:
"Your father's sister."
I frowned.
"You have a sister?"
"I did."
"What happened to her?"
He stared at the photograph.
"The Black Crown took her."
"When?"
"Thirty years ago."
"Why?"
"Because she discovered the truth."
I looked at the photograph again.
Then noticed the name.
LAUREN STERLING.
My blood ran cold.
I looked toward the door.
Lauren wasn't just Matthew's mistress.
She wasn't just a Black Crown informant.
She was my father's missing sister.
My aunt.
And suddenly her entire betrayal made sense.
She hadn't been trying to destroy me.
She had been trying to get close enough to expose the people who had destroyed our family.
But one question remained.
Why had she waited until now?
My phone vibrated.
A message appeared.
From Lauren.
I'm sorry I lied.
Then another.
But I finally found the person who ordered everything.
And the final message:
It's not Victoria.
I stared at the screen.
A photograph arrived.
It showed Lauren standing beside an elderly man.
My father immediately recognized him.
He whispered:
"No."
I looked at the photograph.
"Who is he?"
My father didn't answer.
Lauren sent one final message.
Ask your father why he never told you that the man who founded the Black Crown is still alive.
Then the name appeared.
RICHARD STERLING.
My grandfather.
The man everyone believed had died twenty years ago.
The man whose funeral I had attended as a child.
The man whose portrait hung above our fireplace.
Alive.
Watching.
May you like
And apparently—
still in control.
