Chapter 14 - The Shadow of the Crown
Celia’s face drained of what little color it possessed. She turned away from the stove, unable to meet Emma’s wide, searching eyes. Outside, an owl called from the dark branches of the orchard, a lonely, mournful sound.
"You weren't supposed to find that," Celia murmured, her voice barely carrying over the hum of the refrigerator. "Not like this. Not while the wolves are still hunting."
"You said my mother died in a car crash when I was two years old!" Emma cried out, emotion surging through her exhaustion. "My father raised me and Claire alone! Claire is my sister—"
"Claire *is* your sister," Celia interrupted gently, tears welling in her rimmed eyes. "Your father, Thomas, was the bravest, kindest man in this county. When my life was dismantled... when the family that owned the Crown Empire discovered I was carrying an heir who could strip them of their charter... Thomas took you. He married Claire's mother a year later, and he loved you both without distinction. He swore to me on his deathbed that he would never let the Vance dynasty put their mark on you."
"The mark..." Ryan murmured, the puzzle pieces clicking together with sickening clarity. He looked at Emma, remembering the gala where Helena Vance had dipped a brush into crimson paint and smeared the word *LIAR* across Emma's white maternity dress.
"Helena wasn't just throwing a tantrum because Emma brought forged provenance papers to the gallery," Ryan realized, slamming his palm onto the table. "Helena knew who Emma was! She was marking her. She wanted to humiliate Emma so completely that no court, no board of trustees, and no journalist would ever believe a word that came out of her mouth!"
"Worse," Claire said, picking up the heavy brass key stamped *004*. "If Emma is the rightful heir to the Montgomery foundation that founded the Crown Gallery, then Helena Vance never owned the collection. The real estate, the paintings, the trust fund worth billions—it wasn't Helena's."
"It belonged to Emma's bloodline," Nora said softly.
Suddenly, baby Hope let out a sharp wail.
The lights in the kitchen flickered. Once. Twice. Then went completely black.
May you like
Outside on the gravel driveway, the heavy crunch of tires rolling without headlights broke the stillness of the night.
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