Chapter 6 - THE SISTER
The third-floor nursery felt like a tomb.
Eleanor stared at Richard, her mind shattering into a thousand jagged pieces. He wasn’t a martyr. He hadn’t sacrificed himself in the bank lobby. He had surrendered, and now he was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the man who had stolen their daughter.
“Richard,” Eleanor gasped, her voice trembling with betrayal. “You brought them here.”
Richard didn’t meet her eyes. He stared at the Persian rug, his jaw tight.
“Drop the weapon, Daniel,” Marcus Vance commanded smoothly. He adjusted his silk tie. “Or my men will paint this beautiful wallpaper with your brain matter.”
Daniel hesitated, his gun still raised. But as three laser sights materialized on his chest, he slowly lowered his weapon and let it drop to the floor. A guard stepped forward and kicked it away.
Marcus smiled, a chilling, reptilian stretching of his lips. He walked into the room, stopping beside Rose. He placed a paternal hand on her shoulder.
Rose didn’t flinch, but her grip on her pistol tightened.
“You see, Eleanor,” Marcus said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “You always played the tragic, grieving mother so perfectly. Even you believed it. But drugs are a terrible thing. The sedatives they gave you after the birth? They make a person so agreeable. You signed those adoption papers without even opening your eyes.”
“You forged my signature!” Eleanor shouted, stepping forward.
A guard raised his rifle, but Marcus waved him down.
“I didn't forge anything,” Marcus said calmly. “I just guided your hand. It made the transfer perfectly legal. But Richard here… Richard knew. He woke up and found the paperwork. And instead of going to the police, he made a deal.”
Marcus turned to look at Richard.
“He traded his silence for the CEO chair of Vance Pharmaceuticals,” Marcus continued. “We kept the girl. He kept the money. Everyone won.”
Lena let out a choked sob. She looked at Richard, the man who was supposed to be her father. “Is it true? Did you sell my sister for a job?”
Richard finally looked up. His eyes met Lena’s. They were filled with an agony so profound it made Eleanor’s breath catch.
“I did what I had to do to keep your mother alive,” Richard said, his voice raw. “They were going to kill all of us.”
“Pathetic,” Rose spat. She stepped away from Marcus, her gun still aimed at Eleanor. She looked at Lena with absolute disgust. “You cry over a man who threw us away like garbage. Margaret made you weak.”
“Margaret made me human!” Lena yelled back, stepping protectively in front of Eleanor. “She died trying to save you!”
“She died because she was stupid,” Rose snapped, though her voice wavered for a fraction of a second. “She thought she could steal me back. Marcus told me how she broke into the estate. How she begged. And how she died.”
“Rose,” Eleanor said softly, her voice piercing the tension in the room.
She didn’t look at Marcus. She didn’t look at Richard. She looked only at her daughter.
“Look at me,” Eleanor pleaded.
Rose’s dark eyes locked onto Eleanor’s.
“I have dreamed of your face every night for twenty-four years,” Eleanor said, her voice shaking but full of absolute conviction. “I kept your nursery exactly as it was. I bought clothes for a child who never grew up. I celebrated two birthdays in a graveyard every single year. Do you think I would have done that if I knew you were alive?”
Rose’s jaw tightened. “You signed the paper.”
“They drugged her!” Daniel yelled, stepping forward before a guard slammed the butt of his rifle into Daniel’s stomach, dropping him to his knees.
“Stop!” Eleanor screamed.
She turned back to Rose. With slow, deliberate movements, Eleanor reached for the silver chain around her neck. She pulled the locket free and unclasped it.
She held it out in her palm. The silver locket, now complete with the R.W. tag perfectly slotted inside.
“Margaret didn’t break this to leave a trail,” Eleanor said, tears streaming down her face. “She broke it because she knew she couldn’t take both of you. She gave half to Lena. And she left half with me. So that one day, we would find our way back to each other.”
Rose stared at the locket. For the first time, the cold, deadened look in the enforcer’s eyes cracked. She looked at the tiny silver tag she had been told was a serial number from a dog collar.
It was a piece of a heart.
“Don’t listen to her, Rose,” Marcus said sharply, his paternal tone vanishing. “They are trying to manipulate you. Shoot the mother. We’ll dispose of the rest.”
Rose didn’t move. Her gun hand trembled slightly.
“I said, shoot her,” Marcus barked.
“Rose, look at him,” Lena pleaded, her voice breaking. “Look at the man you call your father. Does he love you? Or does he just use you to hurt people?”
Rose swallowed hard. She looked at Marcus, the man who had raised her in a mansion devoid of warmth, teaching her only how to break bones and clean firearms.
Then she looked at Eleanor, whose face was a mirror of her own, twisted in pure, unconditional love.
Rose slowly lowered her gun.
“No,” Rose whispered.
Marcus Vance’s face contorted in rage. “You ungrateful little bitch.”
Marcus drew a silver pistol from his own jacket and aimed it directly at Rose’s back.
Before he could pull the trigger, Richard Whitmore moved.
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He didn’t yell. He didn’t hesitate. He launched himself across the room with a terrifying, primal ferocity, slamming his entire body weight into Marcus.
The gun went off with a deafening crack.
