Chapter 14 - Ashes
The fire destroyed almost half the archive.
Fire investigators found evidence of accelerant.
This was no electrical failure.
Someone had entered the building using an executive credential twenty-seven minutes before the alarm.
The credential belonged to Jonathan Pierce.
Jonathan was arrested before noon.
“I didn’t do it,” he said as officers took him away.
Adrian watched without expression.
Jonathan looked at him.
“You know I didn’t.”
Adrian’s voice was quiet.
“I don’t know what I know anymore.”
Clara saw the words hurt them both.
By evening, television networks had picked up the story.
BEAUMONT MEDICAL EXECUTIVE ARRESTED AFTER ARCHIVE FIRE.
TRIAL DEATHS POSSIBLY CONNECTED TO BILLIONAIRE FAMILY.
The Beaumont name was collapsing.
Exactly as Victor had threatened.
Share prices fell.
Board members panicked.
Sponsors withdrew from the foundation gala.
Two hospitals requested emergency meetings.
Adrian spent hours taking calls.
Clara stayed with Evelyn.
At nine o’clock, Evelyn said something unexpected.
“You should go home.”
Clara looked at her.
“I’m fine.”
“No.”
“You’re hiding.”
Clara frowned.
“From what?”
“Your own life.”
Evelyn was right.
Clara had not answered her mother’s calls all day.
She had not checked her apartment.
She had not thought about anything outside the Beaumont crisis.
“Go.”
Clara hesitated.
Evelyn smiled.
“I survived Vanessa Sterling.”
“I can survive three hours without you.”
Clara finally left.
Her apartment door was open when she arrived.
She stopped in the hallway.
The lock had been broken.
Her neighbor stood nearby.
“I called the police.”
Clara’s heart pounded.
Inside, drawers had been emptied.
Her mattress cut open.
Kitchen cabinets searched.
Photographs ripped from frames.
Someone had been looking for something.
But Clara owned nothing connected to the Beaumont family.
Or so she thought.
She entered carefully.
Her mother’s old sewing tin had been dumped on the floor.
Receipts.
Buttons.
Thread.
And a sealed envelope.
Clara froze.
She had never seen it before.
Her name was written on the front.
CLARA ELIZABETH HAYES.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
Inside was a photograph.
Charles Beaumont.
A younger woman stood beside him.
Clara’s breath disappeared.
The woman was her mother.
Twenty-five years younger.
The second item was a handwritten note.
If Victor Sterling ever comes looking for this, give it only to Evelyn.
Clara dropped into a chair.
The note was signed.
Marianne Hayes.
Her mother.
Clara called her immediately.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then a text appeared from an unknown number.
STOP HELPING THE BEAUMONTS.
Clara stared.
Another message arrived.
YOUR MOTHER DIDN’T.
Her hands began shaking.
She called Adrian.
He answered immediately.
“Clara?”
“My mother knew your father.”
Silence.
“What?”
Clara looked at the photograph.
“And someone just broke into my apartment looking for whatever she kept from him.”
Adrian’s voice changed.
“Where is your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“Clara.”
His tone frightened her.
“When did you last speak to her?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“Where does she live?”
Clara told him.
Daniel sent officers.
Twenty minutes later, they reached Marianne Hayes’s house.
The lights were on.
Her purse was inside.
Her phone rested on the kitchen counter.
But Marianne was gone.
On the dining table sat one empty envelope.
Across the front, someone had written a message in black marker.
BRING US CHARLES’S BOX.
Clara stared at the photograph of her mother.
May you like
The Beaumont family’s buried past had just become hers.
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