Chapter 40: The Black Sheep

"She's alive," I said into the phone, my voice thick with unshed tears. "Physically. But she's... she's not the same."

"What did they do to her?" Julian asked. His voice was no longer groggy. It was sharp, surgical.

"Drugs," I said. "Lots of them. For years. Eleanor keeps her in the guest house. She paints all day. Disturbed things. And she... she thinks the baby died."

A silence stretched across the ocean, heavy with twenty years of grief.

"She thinks Adam died?"

"Adam?" I asked, confused. "Oh, the first one. Yes. And the second one."

"There was no second one," Julian said quickly. Too quickly.

I looked at the photo of Leo on the seat beside me. The photo of Catherine holding a baby in 2002.

"Julian," I said slowly. "I have the box. I have photos of a baby born in 2002. A boy. And I have adoption papers."

"That's... that's impossible. I was there. I left in '99, but I kept tabs. Catherine never had another child."

"Then who is this?" I described the photo. The desert house. The date.

"I don't know," he whispered. "But if Gabriel has the boys... Elena, you have to understand. Gabriel isn't stable. He's been hunting Vanes for two decades. He blames Richard for everything."

"He blames Richard for stealing Catherine?"

"He blames Richard for stealing his life. Gabriel was the architect, yes. But he was also the scapegoat. The original one. Before you."

My blood ran cold.

"What do you mean?"

"The embezzlement," Julian said. "The tax fraud. The shell companies. They were all set up in Gabriel's name. When Eleanor decided to clean house in '99, she framed Gabriel. He went to prison for three years. That's why he changed his name. That's why he disappeared."

I looked at the text message again. *Bring the box.*

Gabriel didn't just want evidence. He wanted exoneration. He wanted to clear his name.

"He's going to use the box to prove his innocence," I said. "And he's using my children as leverage."

"He won't hurt them," Julian said, though he didn't sound convinced. "But he will hurt Richard. And Eleanor. And anyone who stands in his way."

"I need to go," I said. "I have to meet Marcus."

"Be careful with Marcus," Julian warned. "He's a snake. But snakes are predictable. Feed him, and he won't bite."

"I have the food," I said, glancing at the death certificate.

"Good luck, Elena. And... if you see Catherine... tell her I kept my promise."

"What promise?"

"I told her I wouldn't come back until I could bring him home."

"Bring who home?"

"Adam," Julian said. "Our son."

The line clicked dead.

I stared at the phone.

*Our son.*

Julian wasn't just the uncle. He was the father.

Adam was Julian's son.

Which meant the baby in 1999... the heir... was Julian's.

And if Gabriel was the father of the 2002 baby...

My head was spinning. The family tree was a tangle of thorns and lies.

I started the car. I had twenty minutes to get to the Marina. Twenty minutes to convince a shark to switch tanks.

I drove fast, the city lights blurring into streaks of neon. I rehearsed my pitch. *Immunity. Money. Revenge.*

I pulled into the construction site. It was dark, the skeleton of the new luxury condos looming against the night sky. Trailer 4 was lit up, a beacon in the mud.

I parked and grabbed the box. I took the death certificate out and folded it into my pocket.

I walked up the metal steps and knocked.

"Come in."

I pushed the door open.

Marcus Thorne was sitting behind a cheap metal desk, wearing a tuxedo. He looked out of place, like a diamond in a dumpster.

He smiled when he saw me. A thin, predatory smile.

"Elena," he said. "You look terrible."

"I've had a bad day," I said, setting the box on the desk. "But it's about to get better. For one of us."

"Is that the leverage?" He nodded at the box.

"It is."

"And what makes you think I won't just take it and call the police?"

"Because," I said, pulling the death certificate from my pocket and slamming it onto the desk. "This has your name all over it."

He looked at the paper. *Certificate of Death. Elena Vane.*

His smile vanished.

"I didn't draft this," he said quietly.

"No," I said. "But you're the lawyer. You're the one who files the paperwork. You're the one who makes the problems go away. And when the police find my body in the woods... who do you think Richard is going to blame?"

Marcus stared at the paper. He picked it up, his fingers brushing the seal.

"He's sloppy," Marcus muttered. "He didn't even date it correctly."

"He's desperate," I said. "And desperate men make mistakes. Mistakes that get their lawyers disbarred. Or arrested."

I leaned forward.

"Help me, Marcus. Help me take them down. And I'll give you the box. The passports. The photos. The proof that you were just... following orders."

He looked at me. Then he looked at the box.

"What's in it for me?"

"The Blackwood Trust," I said. "It's worth fifty million dollars. And if we prove Richard's marriage to me was void... and his marriage to Catherine is valid... then he has no claim to it."

"And who does?"

"Catherine," I said. "And her court-appointed guardian."

I pointed at him.

"You."

Marcus sat back in his chair. He tapped a pen against his chin.

"Guardian ad litem," he mused. "Control of the assets. A generous stipend."

"And immunity," I added. "I won't testify against you."

He looked at the death certificate one last time. Then he crumpled it up and threw it in the trash can.

"You need to get out of the city," he said. "Tonight."

"I can't. Gabriel has the boys."

Marcus froze. "Gabriel?"

"The man in the woods. Julian Blackwood."

"God help you," he said. "That's not Julian Blackwood."

"Who is he?"

"That's Catherine's first husband," Marcus said. "The one she married in 1999. The one Eleanor had annulled."

"Annulled?"

"Annulled. Erased. And then... committed."

"Committed?"

"To Blackwood Asylum," Marcus said. "He escaped three days ago."