Chapter247 The Guilty Party
Miranda did not go to the bedroom.
She went to the study, locked the door behind her, and crossed to the desk. She pulled up the estate's security system on the computer and switched to the living room feed.
On screen, Celeste was sprawled on the sofa scrolling through her phone, humming to herself, the satisfaction on her face impossible to miss.
Miranda's expression went very still.
She knew the estate's security and data systems were top-tier. Without Prescott's authorization, there was no way she could pull Celeste's communication records or financial transactions on her own.
She needed help.
She opened her contacts.
Before leaving on his assignment, Clifton had saved a number in her phone and told her that if anything came up while he was gone that she couldn't handle alone, she should call it.
Miranda steadied herself and dialed.
It picked up on the first ring.
"Hello?"
The voice was sharp and efficient. Before Miranda could introduce herself, the woman asked, "Is this Miranda?"
"Yes."
A soft laugh from the other end, knowing and respectful. "Hello, Mrs. Prescott. I'm Mia, the Boss's assistant. Before he left, he specifically asked me to keep an eye on your safety and to give you full support if you needed anything."
Mia paused briefly.
"His rule was that I couldn't reach out to you first. You had to come to me. When the story about your company broke, I was watching from the moment it started. I've been waiting for your call."
Something warm moved through Miranda before she could stop it.
An image of Clifton surfaced in her mind, clear and unwanted.
That man, powerful and unreachable on the surface. And quietly, invisibly, arranging everything she might need before she even knew to ask.
The detail of it made her eyes sting.
She blinked it away fast.
"There's a situation with my company that's gotten complicated," she said, back to her normal steadiness. "I have reason to believe Celeste is behind it. Can you look into it?"
"Of course," Mia said, without a beat of hesitation. "I'll start right now. I'll contact you the moment I have something."
"Good."
Miranda ended the call.
The study went quiet.
She moved to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked out at the garden below, and for the first time since everything started, she let herself exhale.
But the moment her mind loosened its grip on the problem in front of her, it filled immediately with Clifton.
She tilted her head and looked at the calendar on the desk.
He had said the assignment would take about three days.
It had been five or six now.
She wondered where he was. Whether things had gotten complicated. Whether he was safe.
A low growl from her stomach pulled her back.
She looked down, then realized she had been standing at the window for almost two hours.
She sighed, went downstairs, ate something quick, and went straight back to work on the Celeste investigation.
She never put all her weight on one person. Having a backup plan cost nothing.
--
By early evening, she drove to the hospital.
Coming around to the doorway of Christian's room, she stopped.
Through the wide glass wall, she could see a large therapy pool. Christian was inside, one hand gripping the rail, working through leg rehabilitation exercises with a doctor guiding each step.
Every movement looked like it cost him everything. Sweat ran down his face.
But his eyes, usually soft and easy, held something she had never seen in them before. A hard, quiet determination.
Miranda's chest lifted.
"Miranda, you're here."
Arabella spotted her and pulled her down into one of the chairs beside her, her face relaxed and light.
"The doctor says the water reduces the pressure on his knees while he works. It's been helping a lot with recovery." She watched her son in the pool with something close to relief. "If things keep going this well, he could be discharged in another month."
Miranda looked at her brother.
"That's good," she said quietly. And for the first time in a very long time, she meant it without effort.
She stayed through dinner, talked with her mother, and left when the evening had settled in.
The elevator doors slid open at an intermediate floor on the way down.
A woman stepped in, stylishly dressed, head bent over her phone.
Miranda's eyes caught the bag hanging from her arm, and something in her went very still.
The elevator doors started to close.
Miranda stepped out without thinking, keeping a quiet distance behind the woman.
She did not recognize the woman's face.
But she recognized that bag.
A Hermes Birkin, with a small white magnolia painted in the corner by a designer Miranda had specifically commissioned. A one-of-a-kind piece she had ordered for her mother's birthday.
She followed the woman around a corner.
The face that came into profile confirmed it.
Evelyn.
Miranda slowed. Her eyes moved to the sign on the wall ahead.
Gynecology and Obstetrics.
A thought landed in her mind, almost too sharp to be real.
Evelyn was pregnant.
Minutes later, Evelyn walked out of the examination room.
She was holding an ultrasound printout with both hands, gripping it like it was a deed to everything she had ever wanted.
The look on her face said it all. Pure, unguarded triumph.
She was pregnant. A little over a month along.
With this child, Dominic's loyalties would finally belong entirely to her. She would have the leverage to push Christian and Miranda further and further to the edges of his life. And the Lancaster Group, all of it, would eventually belong to the child she was carrying.
Evelyn walked out of the department holding her stomach with one hand and her phone with the other, not noticing the pair of eyes that had taken in every single expression on her face.
Miranda waited until Evelyn had disappeared at the far end of the corridor. Then she turned and walked in the opposite direction.
This Prescott-affiliated private hospital had a reputation for two things: exceptional care, and complete discretion.
Of course Evelyn had felt safe coming here.
She just hadn't counted on Miranda.
Miranda's hands settled on the steering wheel as she drove out.
If the child was Dominic's, it was proof of an affair during the marriage.
Proof that he was the guilty party.
And the most powerful card her mother could hold in any divorce proceeding.