Chapter 43: The Second Call

The water in the tub had turned lukewarm, but I left the tap running, a steady, thundering stream to mask the sound of my voice. I sat fully clothed on the bathmat, Mrs. Higgins’ phone clutched in my hand, watching the steam fog up the mirror.

On the other side of the locked door, I could hear the muffled sounds of Richard moving around the bedroom. The creak of the floorboards. The *click* of the TV remote. He was watching the news, oblivious to the fact that his wife was sitting five feet away, plotting his destruction.

The phone vibrated against my palm.

*Unknown Caller.*

I answered it on the first buzz, bringing it to my ear with a trembling hand.

"Are you alone?"

It was Julian. His voice was clearer this time, stripped of the groggy confusion from our earlier call. He sounded sharp. Wary.

"I'm in the bathroom," I whispered, pressing my forehead against the cold porcelain of the tub. "Richard is in the next room. I have the water running."

"Smart," he said. "But not smart enough. You need to leave, Elena. Tonight."

"I can't leave until I understand," I hissed. "I found the marriage certificate, Julian. 2002. Richard married Catherine. But you... you said they were siblings. Everyone says they're siblings."

"We lied," he said flatly.

"Why? Why pretend to be brother and sister if they were actually husband and wife? It’s sick."

"It’s not sick, Elena. It’s expensive."

I paused. "What?"

"Catherine isn't my sister," Julian said, the words dropping like stones into the silence of the bathroom. "And she isn't Richard's sister. She's our cousin."

I stared at the tiles, my mind racing to realign the family tree. Cousins. Not incest. Just... proximity.

"Her father was Silas Blackwood," Julian continued. "He built the construction empire that Eleanor claims she started. When he died, he left everything to Catherine. Every cent. Every asset. But there was a catch."

"The Trust," I whispered, remembering the ledger entries I had seen.

"Exactly. The Blackwood Trust. It stipulates that the funds can only be accessed by Catherine, or her legal husband. Eleanor was left with nothing but a stipend and a grudge."

"So she made Richard marry her," I realized. The horror of it washed over me, colder than the dying bathwater. "To get access to the money."

"She orchestrated the whole thing," Julian said, his voice thick with bitterness. "She raised us together, yes. But she kept Catherine isolated, dependent. And when Catherine turned eighteen, Eleanor forced the marriage. Richard didn't want a wife, Elena. He wanted a bank account."

"But the 'sister' story," I pressed. "Why tell everyone she's his sister?"

"Because if the public knew Catherine Blackwood was alive and married to Richard Vane, the Blackwood board of directors would have started asking questions. They would have audited the books. They would have seen that Richard was draining the company dry."

I closed my eyes. It was so simple. So monstrously simple.

"They erased her identity to steal her inheritance," I said. "They told the world she was a reclusive sister so no one would look for the wife who owned the company."

"And when she tried to fight back," Julian said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl, "when she tried to leave with Adam... they broke her."

"The drugs," I said.

"Haloperidol. Thorazine. Enough sedatives to kill a horse, fed to her daily for twenty years," Julian said. "They didn't just lock her away, Elena. They chemically lobotomized her."

I looked at the door. I could picture Richard on the other side, relaxing in the bed bought with Catherine's money, watching a TV paid for by Catherine's suffering.

"She’s the golden goose," I whispered.

"No," Julian corrected me. "She’s the prisoner."

"And you?" I asked. "Why didn't you stop them?"

"I tried," he said. "I tried to get her out in '99. But Eleanor... she found out. She threatened to put Catherine in a state facility. To declare her mentally incompetent and take permanent power of attorney. I left to protect her. I thought if I was gone, Eleanor would go easy on her."

"You were wrong," I said.

"I know," he rasped. "I know."

The doorknob rattled.

I froze.

"Elena?" Richard’s voice called out, muffled by the wood. "Everything okay in there? You've been in there a while."

"I'm fine!" I called back, pitching my voice to sound casual, light. "Just... soaking. My back hurts."

"Okay," he said. "Don't be too long. I missed you."

His footsteps retreated.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"He's suspicious," Julian said in my ear. "You need to get out."

"I can't leave without the leverage," I said. "I need the original trust documents. The ones proving Catherine is the sole beneficiary."

"They're in the safe," Julian said. "In the library. Behind the portrait of the grandfather who started this whole rot."

"I know the safe," I said. "But I don't have the combination."

"I do," Julian said. "It hasn't changed in forty years. It's the date the first Vane contract was signed."

I grabbed a brow pencil from the counter and scribbled the numbers on the back of my hand.

"Julian," I said. "One more thing. The death certificate I found... it had my name on it."

Silence. Long and heavy.

"Then you're already dead to them," he said finally. "They kept Catherine for the dowry. They drugged her for the silence. But you, Elena? You have no money. And you're making too much noise."