Chapter 5 - THE WAX SEAL
Beatrice stopped laughing.
Her cold gray eyes locked onto the tarnished silver rattle in Lily’s small, dirty hand. The color drained from her face so fast she looked like a ghost standing in her emerald velvet gown.
“Where did you get that?” Beatrice breathed, taking a panicked step backward.
“Martha gave it to me on her deathbed,” Lily said, holding the rattle up higher. “She told me never to lose it. She said it was the only thing that could prove who I was.”
Daniel stared at the rattle. He recognized it instantly. It was a Blackwood family heirloom, passed down for four generations. But he hadn’t seen it in decades. He had assumed it was lost in a move.
“That’s just a toy,” Beatrice sneered, recovering her composure quickly, though a slight tremor in her hands betrayed her fear. “A stolen trinket. A piece of silver proves absolutely nothing to the estate lawyers, you foolish child.”
“It’s not just a toy,” Lily said softly.
With both hands, the twelve-year-old gripped the top and bottom of the rattle.
She twisted it.
There was a sharp click.
The handle of the rattle unscrewed from the top. It was hollow inside.
The guests in the room leaned forward, entirely captivated by the unfolding drama. Even the security guards were watching with bated breath.
Lily tipped the hollow silver handle over her palm.
A tightly rolled piece of parchment paper slid out. It was bound by a thick, crimson wax seal bearing the Blackwood crest.
“No!” Beatrice screamed.
She lunged down the stairs, moving with a desperate, feral speed, her hands outstretched like claws aimed directly at Lily’s throat.
Daniel reacted on pure instinct. He stepped in front of Lily, bracing his shoulder, and shoved his mother hard. Beatrice stumbled backward, her heels catching on the hem of her gown, and she crashed onto the marble stairs.
“Don’t you ever come near her again,” Daniel roared, his voice shaking the chandelier above them.
Amelia, the birthday girl, let go of Victoria’s hand and ran to stand right beside Lily. Despite the dirt on Lily’s clothes and the flawless silk of Amelia’s dress, they stood shoulder to shoulder.
“Leave my sister alone,” Amelia yelled at her grandmother, tears streaming down her face.
The word sister seemed to echo in the massive hall. Lily looked at Amelia, her hardened, street-weary eyes softening for the first time all night.
Daniel knelt down in front of Lily. He didn’t care about his custom Italian suit hitting the floor. He looked at the rolled parchment in her hand.
“May I?” he asked softly, his voice full of a gentle, terrifying hope.
Lily nodded. She placed the parchment in his large hand.
Daniel broke the crimson wax seal. The crisp snap of the wax was loud in the silent room. He unrolled the paper.
It was a legally binding addendum to the Blackwood will, signed, dated, and notarized by a federal judge who had been Richard Blackwood’s closest friend.
Daniel read it aloud, his voice trembling with emotion.
“I, Richard Blackwood, having discovered the heinous crime committed by my wife, Beatrice, do hereby officially recognize the bearer of this document as my biological granddaughter, the second-born twin of Daniel and Victoria Blackwood. A blood sample has been secretly logged under a John Doe file at Mercy Hospital by Dr. Evans to match the child. The presentation of this document before her twelfth birthday immediately nullifies any power Beatrice Blackwood holds in this family. Welcome home, little one.”
Daniel dropped the paper. He buried his face in his hands and began to weep. It was the deep, agonizing cry of a father who had spent twelve years mourning a child who was alive the entire time.
Victoria fell to her knees beside him, wrapping her arms around Lily. She pulled the muddy, barefoot girl into her chest, not caring about her designer dress.
“My baby,” Victoria sobbed, kissing Lily’s messy hair over and over again. “My beautiful, beautiful baby. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Lily’s tough exterior finally broke. She wrapped her thin arms around her mother’s neck and buried her face in Victoria’s shoulder, crying for the family she had always dreamed of.
On the stairs, Beatrice slowly pulled herself up. Her hair was disheveled. Her emerald gown was torn at the knee. She looked at the family embracing on the floor, and a dark, sinister shadow crossed her face.
“You think you’ve won?” Beatrice hissed, wiping a smudge of dirt from her cheek. “You think a piece of paper and a sweet family hug fixes this?”
Daniel stood up, wiping his eyes. He looked at his mother with absolute disgust. “It’s over, Mother. You have no power left. You’re leaving this house tonight, and tomorrow, my lawyers will ensure you spend the rest of your miserable life in a federal prison for kidnapping.”
Beatrice let out a low, terrifying chuckle. She leaned heavily against the banister.
“I may go to prison, Daniel,” Beatrice said, her eyes turning pitch black with malice. “But Victoria won’t be here to see it.”
Daniel frowned, a cold spike of dread hitting his stomach. “What are you talking about?”
Beatrice pointed a trembling, manic finger at the half-empty tea cup resting on a side table near Victoria’s chair.
“I knew the truth might come out eventually,” Beatrice smiled, showing her teeth. “So I made sure Victoria’s ‘chronic illness’ would take her before she could ever fight back.”
The room gasped.
May you like
“The tea?” Victoria whispered, looking at the china cup.
“A slow-acting poison,” Beatrice gloated. “Undetectable. I’ve been slipping it into her drinks for six months. And tonight, I gave her the final, lethal dose. Check her cup, Daniel. She won’t live to see the sunrise.”
