Chapter 4: What Victoria Had Always Known
Arthur's thumb hovered over the screen.
Maya saw his face.
"Answer it," she said.
He did.
Silence on the line.
Then breathing.
Then a voice he had spent six years trying to forget the exact sound of.
"Arthur."
It was her.
He sat down on the bed.
The photograph was still in his hand.
"Claire."
"I don't have much time," she said.
"I need you to listen and not interrupt.
Can you do that?"
"You're supposed to be d*ad."
"I know what I'm supposed to be." A pause.
"I need you to listen."
Arthur said nothing.
She took it as agreement.
"I left because I had to.
I can't explain everything on this call.
What I can tell you is that when I found out I was pregnant, I was already in a situation I couldn't get out of safely.
I couldn't come to you.
I couldn't tell you.
I made a decision that I have paid for every single day since."
"You gave them up."
"I made sure they were placed together.
I made sure they stayed together.
I checked on them every year.
Every single year, Arthur." Her voice tightened.
"And then eight months ago, I found out that Victoria knew about them.
That she had known for over two years.
And that she had been working to make sure they were never placed anywhere near you."
Arthur stood up.
"What?"
"She hired someone.
A private investigator, originally — to look into my background before your wedding.
That investigator found the children.
Found the hospital records.
Found the birth certificates." Claire's voice stayed flat, controlled, the way it always got when she was holding something difficult very carefully.
"Victoria has known since before she married you that those children existed.
That they were mine.
And she made a choice not to tell you."
"Why are you telling me now?"
"Because she found out I was still alive.
I don't know how.
But three weeks ago, someone started asking questions in the city where I've been living.
Professional questions.
The kind that cost money." A breath.
"I got scared.
So I went to the children first.
I had to warn them.
And I had to give them something that would protect them if anything happened to me."
"The photograph."
"Yes."
Arthur walked to the window.
The street below was still empty.
Victoria's car was gone.
"Where are you?"
"I can't tell you that yet."
"Claire—"
"I need you to do one thing first.
Before anything else." Her voice dropped.
"Go to your study.
Bottom drawer of the filing cabinet.
There's a folder you've never opened because Victoria told you it was old insurance paperwork.
Open it."
Arthur was already moving toward the door.
"How do you know about that folder?"
"Because I put it there," Claire said.
"Fourteen months ago.
I had a key made.
I'm sorry.
I didn't have another way."
Arthur went down the stairs.
Maya and Daniel followed without being asked.
He went to the study, pulled open the filing cabinet, found the folder exactly where Claire said it would be.
Inside: photographs.
Documents.
A printed email chain.
Bank transfer records.
He spread them on the desk.
"Are you looking at them?" Claire asked.
"Yes."
"The email chain is between Victoria and the investigator.
Read the one dated March four, three years ago."
Arthur found it.
He read it once.
Then again.
His hand came down flat on the desk.
The email was from Victoria to the investigator.
It was short.
It said: *Confirm the children remain in the current placement.
Do not allow any transfer requests to go through.
If a transfer is initiated, I need to know immediately.
Payment as discussed.*
"She was blocking them," Arthur said.
"Every time a family came forward—"
"Every time," Claire said.
"For two years.
Any family that expressed interest in taking them together — there were four, Arthur — the placement fell through within weeks.
Each time." Her voice finally cracked, just slightly, at the edges.
"I didn't know until eight months ago.
When I found out, I couldn't—" She stopped.
Steadied herself.
"I couldn't leave them there any longer."
Daniel was standing beside Arthur.
The boy looked at the papers on the desk without touching them.
"Is that about us?" he asked quietly.
Arthur looked at him.
"Yes."
Daniel nodded once.
His face didn't change much.
But his hand found the edge of the desk and held it.
Maya read the email over Arthur's shoulder.
When she finished, she straightened up and looked at the wall.
"She did all of that," Maya said.
Not a question.
"Yes," Arthur said.
"Why?"
Arthur looked at the folder.
At the bank transfer records.
At the photographs of Victoria meeting with a man he didn't recognize in a car park he didn't recognize, taken from a distance, clearly without her knowledge.
"Because she was afraid," he said.
"Of what you represented."
His phone buzzed on the desk.
A text from Victoria.
*"Arthur.
Whatever Claire has told you — she is not stable.
She has a history of deception.
I can explain everything.
Please don't make any decisions tonight."*
He read it aloud.
Claire's response on the phone was immediate.
"She'll try to discredit me.
She'll say I'm unstable, that I fabricated things, that I have a history of mental illness — she's been building that narrative for two years in case I ever surfaced." A pause.
"That's why I put the documents there fourteen months ago.
So there would be something she couldn't touch."
Arthur looked at the email chain again.
"This is enough," he said.
"It's a start," Claire said.
"But Arthur — she has her father.
And her father has lawyers and money and connections that I don't.
You need to be careful about how you move next."
"I'm not afraid of her father."
"I know you're not.
That's what worries me." Her voice softened, just slightly.
"The children are with you?"
"Yes.
They're right here."
A long silence.
"Are they all right?"
Arthur looked at Maya.
At Daniel's hand still holding the edge of the desk.
"They're strong," he said.
Claire made a sound that wasn't quite a word.
"I'll call again tomorrow," she said.
"Don't contact Victoria tonight.
And Arthur — lock the front door."
The line went d*ad.
Arthur set the phone down.
Maya looked at him.
"What do we do now?"
Arthur gathered the documents from the desk.
Stacked them carefully.
Placed them back in the folder.
"Now," he said, "we make sure she can never do this to anyone again."
He opened the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet and took out a second folder — one he had put there himself, years ago, containing the contact details of the one lawyer in the city he trusted completely.
He had never needed to use it.
He picked up his phone and dialed.
It rang twice.
"Edward," Arthur said.
"I need you tonight.
I know it's late.
I'll explain when you get here." A pause.
"Bring everything you have on asset protection and family law."
He hung up.
Daniel looked up at him.
"Is he good?" the boy asked.
"The lawyer?"
"The best I know," Arthur said.
Daniel considered this.
Then gave a small, serious nod, as though he had made a decision about something.
Arthur almost smiled.
Then his phone lit up one more time.
Not Victoria.
Not Claire.
A number he didn't recognize.
And a text with four words.
May you like
*"We need to talk.
— R."*
