BEATRICE’S CONFESSION

BEATRICE’S CONFESSION
Michelle's Pov

Hayden said Beatrice wanted to talk to me. To apologize. I did not want to see her but Hayden said she had more information that could help us.

So I agreed to meet her.

She came to the safe house two days after meeting with Hayden. She looked nervous when she walked in. Like she expected me to yell at her or throw her out.

"Michelle," she said. "Thank you for seeing me."

"I'm only doing this because Hayden asked me to," I said. "Not because I forgive you."

"I understand," Beatrice said. She sat down on the couch. "I don't expect forgiveness. I don't deserve it."

The twins were napping upstairs so the house was quiet. It was just me, Beatrice, and Hayden in the living room.

The silence felt heavier than any shouting could have. The ticking of the clock on the wall sounded unnaturally loud, marking each second that passed after her confession. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, soft and ordinary, clashing with the weight of what had just been said.

Hayden stood near the fireplace, arms crossed tightly over his chest, as if holding himself together. Beatrice sat forward on the edge of the couch, hands clasped, knuckles pale.

I stayed between them—not physically, but emotionally—aware that this moment could fracture everything or finally force the truth fully into the open.

"Hayden said you have more information," I said. "About Victor Kane and Elliot."

"Yes," Beatrice said. "Things I should have told someone years ago but I was too scared and too selfish."

"Tell us now," I said.

Beatrice took a deep breath. "Elliot was sick. Mentally. He had been sick since Eleanor died. But instead of getting him help I made excuses for him. I told myself he was just grieving. That he would get better with time."

"But he didn't get better," Hayden said.

"No," Beatrice agreed. "He got worse. And Victor Kane encouraged it. He saw Elliot's sickness as something useful. Something he could exploit."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Victor introduced Elliot to the parties," Beatrice said. "The ones where powerful men paid to be with young girls. At first Elliot was reluctant. He knew it was wrong. But Victor convinced him that these girls wanted to be there. That they were being compensated fairly. That it was just business."

"That's disgusting," I said.

“I know,” Beatrice said. “And it got worse from there. Victor started using Elliot to recruit other men. To document what happened at the parties. To collect evidence that could be used for blackmail.”

Her voice had gone flat now, stripped of anything but fact. “Cameras. Hidden at first. Then not so hidden. Some of the men knew. Some didn’t. But once it was recorded, it didn’t matter. Victor kept everything.”

Hayden’s breathing grew shallow, controlled, like he was holding back something explosive.

Beatrice pressed on, as if she understood that stopping would make it harder to continue. “If someone stepped out of line—refused a deal, voted the wrong way, tried to cut ties—Victor reminded them what he had.”

The scope of it settled over us slowly. This wasn’t just abuse. It was a system. Manufactured leverage. A web designed so no one inside it could ever walk away clean.

"So Elliot was working for Victor," Hayden said.

"Yes," Beatrice said. "Victor paid him well. Gave him access to powerful people. Made him feel important. And in return Elliot did Victor's dirty work."

"Did you know about this?" I asked. "While it was happening?"

Beatrice nodded. Tears started running down her face. "Yes. Elliot told me everything. He said he needed someone to talk to. Someone who would understand."

"And you just let it happen," I said. My voice was getting louder. "You knew your son was hurting people and you did nothing."

"I tried to talk to him," Beatrice said. "I told him to stop. To get help. But he said if he tried to leave Victor would destroy him. Would expose everything he had done. So he kept going."

"You could have gone to the police," Hayden said.

"I was afraid," Beatrice said. "Afraid of what Victor would do. Afraid of losing Elliot. Afraid of people knowing I raised a monster."

"So you chose to protect yourself instead of protecting his victims," I said.

"Yes," Beatrice admitted. "And that is something I will have to live with for the rest of my life."

We sat in silence for a minute. I felt angry and sad and disgusted all at the same time. This woman knew everything and did nothing. She was just as guilty as Elliot and Victor Kane.

The emotions tangled inside me, sharp and corrosive. I looked at her and saw not just fear, not just regret—but years of choices. Years of silence that had given monsters room to operate. It would have been easier if she’d denied it, if she’d lied… But she hadn’t. She was sitting there, owning it.

That didn’t absolve her. It didn’t soften what had been done.

But it complicated the anger. Because now she wasn’t hiding behind power or denial. She was asking to help bring it all down. And I didn’t know whether that made her brave—or simply too late.

"Why are you telling us this now?" I asked.

"Because I want to help you stop Victor," Beatrice said. "I want to make sure he pays for what he did. And I want to tell the truth about my part in it."

"You're going to confess?" Hayden asked. "To the police?"

"Yes," Beatrice said. "After Victor is arrested I'm going to turn myself in. I'm going to tell them everything I know. Every name. Every detail. I'm going to make sure everyone involved goes to prison."

"Including yourself," I said.

"Including myself," Beatrice agreed. "I deserve to be punished for what I did. For the girls I hurt by staying silent."

I looked at Hayden. He looked just as conflicted as I felt. Part of me wanted to believe Beatrice was sincere. That she really wanted to make things right. But another part of me thought this was just another manipulation. Another lie.

"There's more you should know," Beatrice said. "About Victor and Elliot's relationship."

"What else could there possibly be?" I asked.

"Victor threatened to kill Elliot multiple times," Beatrice said. "When Elliot started keeping those files. When he started documenting everything. Victor told him if he ever went public with any of it he would kill him and everyone Elliot loved."

"So that's why Elliot never went to the police," Hayden said.

"Yes," Beatrice said. "He was trapped. He knew too much to walk away but he was too scared to do anything about it."

"What about me?" I asked. "Did Elliot know Victor would come after me if he gave me those files?"

Beatrice looked at me with sad eyes. “Yes. He knew. But he thought you were smart enough to figure out how to use them without getting caught. He thought you would be braver than he was.”

The words hit harder than I expected. Not praise—expectation. A burden handed down like inheritance.

Hayden let out a slow, disbelieving breath. “Braver?” he repeated quietly.

Beatrice nodded. “He told me once that you had a conscience he didn’t. That you wouldn’t be able to live with what he’d done. He thought that would make you dangerous.”

I felt something shift inside me—not pride, not exactly. More like clarity.

Elliot hadn’t believed I would protect the empire.

He had believed I would burn it down.

"He put me in danger," I said. "Knowingly. And you knew about it."

"I didn't know about the files until after Elliot died," Beatrice said. "He never told me he was planning to give them to you. If I had known I would have warned you. I would have told you to destroy them."

"But you didn't know," I said. "So here we are."

"Here we are," Beatrice agreed. "And Michelle I am truly sorry. For everything. For how I treated you when you were married to Elliot. For not protecting you from him. For staying silent when I should have spoken up."

I wanted to stay angry at her. I wanted to tell her to leave and never come back. But looking at her sitting there crying and broken I realized she was just another victim of Victor Kane. Another person who got caught in his web of lies and threats.

"I don't forgive you," I said. "Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I appreciate you telling us the truth."

"That's more than I deserve," Beatrice said.