Chapter 83 The Mole Emerges
Chapter 83 The Mole Emerges
Henry's brow eased, almost imperceptibly.
If Joseph was really into Celeste, whatever attention he gave Sophia was just idle youthful curiosity.
"Fine." Henry took the seat across from Sophia. "But we need solid proof for Terry's entire chain of deals."
"Leave it to me." Joseph pulled out his phone and tapped the screen, bringing up an audio file. "I know the Caldwell Corporation has been through a lot lately, and I know exactly what you two are digging into. Look, I might have been trained by Miss Bennett herself, and being on the outside means no one's paying much attention to me. Digging this stuff up? Piece of cake."
He handed the phone over. "Here, this is a call between Terry and Oscar. They talk about getting rid of someone..."
Sophia met Henry's gaze. In that brief look, they both knew—Oscar was the mole.
"Cecil?" Sophia asked.
"Yeah. Cecil." Joseph's eyes lit as if remembering something. "I also found out Celeste is heading to the Victoria film set next week. If you drop by, you might just run into her."
Sophia arched a brow. "You do know how to find an opening."
"Chasing a woman means making the first move." Joseph grinned, flashing two small, sharp canines that lent him a boyish charm.
Henry found himself warming to him, if only slightly. At least Joseph was sharper than Thomas, who had let love turn him into a fool.
Three days later, Thomas laid the prenatal report flat on his desk.
His gaze fixed on the tiny, blurred speck in the ultrasound image. His fingertip pressed hard against the words printed beneath it — 12 weeks and 3 days.
The calculator on his desk blinked, numbers shifting until they landed on a date that left no room for doubt—exactly three months ago, the night he and Susan had reconciled and lost control.
A low, humorless laugh escaped him, echoing off the empty office walls like broken glass.
Beside the report lay a stack of records he had paid to obtain—Susan's appointment logs, payment receipts, even grainy hospital surveillance shots. In the photos, she sat alone in the waiting area, swallowed by an oversized hoodie.
"Was I just imagining things?"
Thomas shoved the report into a drawer. The slam rattled the desk, startling even himself.
He remembered her waking in the night with leg cramps, vomiting until her eyes watered, clinging to the toilet. Those images had begun to burn away the jagged edge of his suspicion.
Maybe it really was just the poison from those barroom whispers clouding his mind.
Susan wanted this child so badly—how could she be faking it?
He pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over a message: [Dinner tonight?]
But after a long pause, he locked the screen instead.
He had no idea that outside the gates of the Caldwell Mansion, a far uglier scene was unfolding.
Susan's fingers dug into her mother's wrist hard enough to leave marks. "That money was promised to me as my wedding gift! You said it was for my dignity when I joined the Caldwell Family. How could you turn around and give it to Ollie for his house?"
"Dignity?" Hayes spat on the cobblestones, grinding out his cigarette. "A woman doesn't need dignity. Marrying into the Caldwell Family is luck enough. Your brother's engagement is next month, and he's marrying Tyrell Baldwin's daughter from the Virensia Chamber of Commerce. If anything goes wrong, can you take the blame?"
"Take the blame?" Susan let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, tears stinging her eyes. "You gave Ollie every designer thing first. He failed high school, failed college, and you paid to send him abroad. Now you're taking my wedding gift too. Have you ever treated me like your daughter?"
"Bitch!" Zara yanked her arm free, shoving Susan back two steps. Her lower back slammed into the doorframe, pain shooting up her spine.
"We raised you, fed you, clothed you. So what if we take a little money? Ollie's the only son in the Simmons Family. As his sister, it's your job to help him."
"Help him?" Susan steadied herself, eyes rimmed red. "Why does it have to be my wedding gift? I'm only asking for three million dollars, and you won't even give me that? Megan has already made it clear—if the Caldwell Family wedding isn't perfect, if the gift is short by even a cent, I won't be allowed through the door. What do you expect me to tell her?"
She knew Megan's temperament too well. The woman could play sweet, but she never forgot a slight.
Even something as small as a pastry Susan mentioned, Megan insisted on buying herself—not out of kindness, but because she feared the recordings Susan kept.
But a missing wedding gift? Megan would use that like a blade.
"And what can she do to you?" Zara sneered, her voice like a poisoned needle. "She's only nice to you because you're holding something over her. The day that stops working, do you think the Caldwell Family will still keep you? You'll be their servant, and we'll be shamed right alongside you."
The words stabbed straight into Susan's chest.
"I..." Her throat closed.
She had been the only one who still believed marrying into wealth meant a life without worry.
Hayes tugged Zara toward the car. "Enough. Let's go."
Zara paused at the door, casting one last cutting glance over her shoulder. "Come back for your wedding gift when you've earned the right to ask for it."
The car roared away, exhaust fumes blowing into Susan's face.
She stayed frozen, watching the car vanish around the corner, before crouching down and covering her face. The ache in her belly tightened, twisting like a cruel hand.
"Why..." Her nails bit into her palms, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth. "Why would you do this to me..."
From behind the second-floor curtains, Sophia stood motionless.
She had only come down for a file, never expecting to witness this.
Susan, crouched on the ground, looked like something fragile and cornered—sharp on the outside, but carrying a despair that couldn't be hidden.
Sophia had seen too many like her. People who had fought too long in the quicksand of their own families, who mistook every kindness for a trap and clung to their ambition as the only way to survive.