Chapter 5 - The Voice from the Shadows
For three days, the penthouse was a tomb.
The paint was washed away, the shaving cream was gone, and the heavy silence returned, thicker and more suffocating than before. Noah put his ties back on. Nora refused to eat, sitting on her bed, staring out the window at Central Park.
Grant sat in his office, staring at the financial documents. He felt physically sick. He had protected his fortune, but he had destroyed the only real thing his children had left.
On Thursday evening, Victoria came over, carrying a tray of dinner for the twins. "They'll get over her, Grant," she said smoothly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Children are resilient. Once we get married and move past this dreadful phase, we can hire a proper nanny from London—"
"We are not getting married, Victoria," a tiny voice said from the doorway.
Grant and Victoria snapped their heads around. Noah stood in the doorway, his spine perfectly straight, his navy blazer buttoned. But he wasn't looking at his father. He was looking at Victoria with a cold, absolute authority that looked exactly like Grant in a boardroom.
"Noah, go back to your room," Victoria said, her voice tightening.
"No," Noah said. He stepped into the office, holding his father's old silk tie in his hands. "You're a liar, Victoria. I heard you talking to your father on the balcony last week. You said you needed to find a way to get rid of the 'hippie therapist' before my dad changed his will."
Grant stood up slowly, his heart stopping. "Noah... what did you say?"
Nora stepped out from behind her brother, her serious gray eyes locked onto Grant. "Maeve didn't take the money, Daddy. Eleanor did."
Grant blinked. "Eleanor? Your grandmother?"
"Grandma called Maeve's center two weeks ago," Nora said, her voice shaking but clear. "I heard her on the phone in the kitchen. Grandma said she wanted to thank the center for letting Maeve help us, so she sent them a gift from her own foundation. Maeve didn't even know about it."
Grant stared at his children. The puzzle pieces instantly slammed together with a sickening force. Victoria had taken a legitimate charity donation from his own mother and twisted it into a weapon to destroy Maeve.
Grant turned to Victoria. The rage in his eyes was so terrifying that Victoria instinctively took a step back, dropping the tray of food. The porcelain shattered against the floor.
"Get out," Grant whispered. It wasn't a shout, but it possessed a deadly, absolute power that made the room shake.
"Grant, listen to me, the children are confusing things—"
"I said GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Grant roared, the sound echoing through the entire penthouse. "Before I have my security team throw you onto the street and ruin your family's bank by morning."
Victoria paled, realizing her empire of lies had completely collapsed. She grabbed her purse and bolted out of the room, her high heels clicking frantically down the hallway until the front door slammed shut.
Grant sank to his knees on the floor, burying his face in his hands. He had failed. He had let his own paranoia blind him to the truth.
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Suddenly, two pairs of small arms wrapped around his neck. Noah and Nora pressed themselves against him, holding him tightly.
"We can still find her, Daddy," Noah whispered against his ear. "It's a retrieval situation."
