Chapter 3: The Letters That Disappeared
The elevator doors closed before my knees began to shake.
Maya reached out and pressed the emergency stop button.
“Elena?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
Rose stirred against my chest, sensing the tension in my body. I kissed her forehead and forced myself to breathe.
I had spent months imagining Adrian’s reaction. In some versions, he accused me of lying. In others, he looked through Rose as if she were another problem for his staff to handle.
I had never imagined the devastation I had just seen.
That did not erase what he had done.
But it complicated my anger.
Maya restarted the elevator.
“You need to prepare yourself,” she said. “If the test confirms paternity, Hartwell’s attorneys may move aggressively for custody.”
“He didn’t know she existed yesterday.”
“And tomorrow he’ll be one of the richest fathers in America.”
The elevator reached the lobby.
Outside, rain streaked the glass walls of Hartwell Tower. Photographers stood behind barricades, waiting for news about the divorce. None of them knew about Rose.
Maya guided me toward the underground garage.
“Your identity won’t stay private for long,” she warned.
“I know.”
“You have somewhere safe to go?”
“My apartment.”
“That apartment has one lock and a fire escape a teenager could climb.”
I managed a tired smile. “You’ve been talking to my neighbor.”
“I’ve been worrying about you.”
Before we reached her car, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I nearly ignored it, but something made me answer.
“Elena Hartwell?”
The voice belonged to a woman.
“Yes?”
“My name is Claire Bennett. I used to work as Adrian’s executive assistant.”
I stopped walking.
“What do you want?”
“To tell you I’m sorry.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“For what?”
There was a pause.
“For sending your letters upstairs.”
Maya watched my expression carefully.
“What do you mean?”
“You mailed three envelopes,” Claire said. “I signed for two of them personally. The third came through legal.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“Did Adrian read them?”
“I don’t know.”
“That isn’t good enough.”
“I was instructed to forward everything from you to Mrs. Hartwell.”
“Victoria?”
“Yes.”
Rainwater dripped from the garage entrance behind us.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because she told me Adrian had suffered a breakdown and that contact from you could destabilize him. She said you were demanding money and threatening the company.”
“I never demanded anything.”
“I know that now.”
Claire’s voice cracked.
“Two months after I forwarded the second letter, I found a sonogram photograph in Victoria’s private office. Your name was written on the back.”
I could no longer feel my fingers.
Maya took the phone and put it on speaker.
“Ms. Bennett, this is Maya Brooks, Mrs. Hartwell’s attorney. Are you willing to provide a sworn statement?”
“I have more than a statement.”
“What do you have?”
“Copies of internal emails. Security logs. Instructions from Grant Holloway’s office. I copied everything before they fired me.”
“Where are you?”
Claire lowered her voice.
“I’m at Union Station. I was going to leave Chicago.”
“Why?”
“Because someone broke into my apartment last night.”
A metallic sound echoed through the call.
Then Claire gasped.
“Claire?” I said.
“I think they found me.”
The line went dead.
Maya immediately called the police.
I stood beside her car, Rose pressed against my chest, while the garage suddenly seemed filled with shadows.
“This is no longer just a divorce,” Maya said.
It never had been.
Back upstairs, Adrian stood behind his desk while his security director projected access records onto the boardroom screen.
Grant had demanded outside counsel.
Victoria had demanded dignity.
Adrian ignored both of them.
“Three certified letters entered this building,” the security director said. “The first was delivered to executive administration seven months ago. The second arrived six months ago. The third went to the legal department five months ago.”
“Who accessed them?” Adrian asked.
“The first two were signed for by Claire Bennett.”
Victoria folded her arms.
“She was unstable. That is why she was dismissed.”
Adrian looked toward his mother.
“I approved her dismissal because Grant told me she had leaked confidential information.”
“She did,” Grant said.
“What information?”
Grant hesitated.
“That Elena had contacted the company.”
The answer settled over the room.
Adrian’s voice became dangerously calm.
“You told me Claire was leaking acquisition details.”
“I told you she had compromised confidentiality.”
“You allowed me to believe it involved the acquisition.”
“Your assumptions are not my responsibility.”
Adrian crossed the distance between them so quickly that Grant stepped back.
“For twelve years, you have spoken with my authority,” Adrian said. “You have negotiated contracts, terminated employees, and threatened competitors using my name. Do not stand in my building and pretend your ambiguity was accidental.”
Victoria moved between them.
“This interrogation is absurd. Even if letters arrived, Elena could have contacted you another way.”
“She tried.”
Adrian turned to the communications director.
“Pull my personal call records from the last year.”
The director swallowed.
“Sir, your personal number was changed after the merger.”
“At whose request?”
The answer appeared on the screen.
REQUEST AUTHORIZED BY: VICTORIA HARTWELL.
Adrian stared at it.
His mother did not look ashamed.
“You were distracted,” she said. “The board was concerned about your judgment.”
“The board?”
“The board believed your marriage made you weak.”
Adrian looked around the table.
One by one, executives lowered their eyes.
The betrayal was not one person.
It was a system.
His system.
The security director’s phone rang. He listened, then turned toward Adrian.
“Sir, Chicago police have reported an incident at Union Station.”
Adrian’s stomach tightened.
“What incident?”
“A former Hartwell employee was assaulted on the lower platform.”
“Name?”
“Claire Bennett.”
He was already moving toward the door when Grant spoke.
“You cannot leave in the middle of an internal investigation.”
Adrian turned back.
“Watch me.”
At the hospital, Claire lay unconscious with a fractured wrist and a head injury.
The police recovered no computer, phone, or files from her bag.
Whoever attacked her had taken everything.
Maya and I arrived minutes before Adrian.
When he stepped into the waiting area, I rose instinctively and held Rose closer.
He stopped several feet away.
“I heard about Claire,” he said.
“She called me before it happened.”
“What did she say?”
“That your mother intercepted my letters.”
Pain flickered across his face, but he did not deny it.
“She also said she had evidence.”
“The evidence is gone.”
“Then somebody knew she was coming to me.”
Adrian glanced toward the police officers.
“My security team can protect you.”
I almost laughed.
“Your security team worked for the people who hid my pregnancy.”
“They work for me.”
“That is exactly what you still don’t understand.”
Rose began to fuss.
Adrian’s eyes immediately dropped to her.
I turned away and rocked her gently.
The laboratory called at 6:42 that evening.
Maya put the phone on speaker.
The preliminary probability of paternity was greater than 99.99 percent.
Adrian closed his eyes.
For one brief second, every wall inside him collapsed.
“She’s mine,” he whispered.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message appeared from the head of Hartwell security.
SURVEILLANCE FOOTAGE RECOVERED FROM UNION STATION.
SUSPECT IDENTIFIED.
Adrian opened the attached image.
The grainy frame showed a man following Claire onto the platform.
I recognized him immediately.
May you like
So did Adrian.
It was Grant Holloway.
