Chapter 5 - THE CHILD'S DRAWING
Bennett’s composed, arrogant mask finally cracked.
He lunged forward, trying to snatch the crayon drawing from my hands. “Give me that! It’s none of your business!”
I stepped back quickly, shielding Sam behind me. “Don't you dare touch me,” I warned, my voice deadly quiet.
Elise rushed to Bennett’s side, her eyes darting nervously toward the wedding guests, who were now standing in the pews, recording the entire spectacle on their smartphones.
“Bennett, what is she talking about?” Elise hissed. “Who is Leo?”
I looked at my mother-in-law. The genuine shock on her face was undeniable.
“You didn’t know?” I asked, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Your perfect, blue-blooded son has a secret child. That’s why he was so desperate to steal my company today. He didn't just need to save Whitmore Hall. He’s being blackmailed.”
Bennett’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “Shut up, Clara.”
“Or what?” I challenged, waving the drawing in the air. “The great Bennett Whitmore, the prize of high society, has a secret family hidden away. How much were you paying her, Bennett? How much of my money were you going to steal to keep your bastard son a secret from your precious mother?”
“Aunt Clara?” Sam asked softly, tugging on the oversized, scratchy sleeve of my clown costume. “Why is the clown crying?”
I reached up and touched my cheek. I hadn't realized a tear had finally fallen. I wiped it away quickly, forcing a brave smile for the boy I loved more than anything.
“Because clowns feel things too, Sammy,” I told him gently. “But they always get the last laugh.”
I stood up and faced the crowded cathedral. “Is she here?” I called out, my voice echoing into the vaulted ceilings. “If you’re here, you might as well come out! The money isn't coming!”
The ballroom remained silent for a long, agonizing moment. The only sound was the rain lashing against the stained-glass windows.
Then, near the heavy oak doors at the back, a woman stepped out from behind a massive floral arrangement.
She wasn't a stranger. She wasn't an anonymous mistress.
It was Maya. My lead software engineer. The woman who had helped me write the foundational code for my entire company.
She walked slowly down the aisle, holding the hand of a little boy who looked exactly like a miniature version of Bennett.
But it wasn't her presence that made my heart stop.
It was what she was wearing around her neck.
Resting against her simple black dress was a heavy, teardrop ruby necklace. It was a flawless, antique jewel that I had purchased for myself after my first major corporate buyout.
I had locked that necklace in the biometric safe inside my home office. Only two people had access to that safe. Me. And Bennett.
“Maya,” I whispered, staring at the ruby. “Why do you have my necklace?”
Maya stopped a few feet away. She didn't look triumphant or malicious. She looked absolutely terrified.
“He didn't just steal your jewelry, Clara,” Maya said, her voice shaking violently as she pulled her son behind her legs to protect him from Bennett’s murderous glare. “Bennett stole the encrypted hard drives from your safe. He sold your proprietary code to a rival firm overseas three weeks ago.”
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She reached into her purse with trembling fingers and pulled out a heavy, rusted, vintage skeleton key.
“And if you don't use this key right now,” Maya cried, holding it out to me, “the buyers are going to destroy the servers in the basement of this hall, and you will lose everything.”
