Chapter 255

Chapter 255
Stella's POV

The cabin sat at the end of a logging road that hadn't seen maintenance in years, surrounded by towering Douglas firs that blocked out most of the daylight even at noon. I'd been searching for River for three months—three months of dead ends, false leads, and nights spent in cheap motels staring at my grandmother's photograph. The trail had finally led me here, to this remote corner of Vancouver Island. The air smelled like wet earth and pine resin, and the only sounds were birdsong and wind through the trees.

I parked my rental car at the base of the trail and walked the last half mile on foot, my boots sinking into mud with each step. A constant gray drizzle had settled over the island, turning everything soft and indistinct. When I finally reached the cabin, I found an old man sitting on the porch, whittling a piece of cedar with hands that trembled slightly but moved with practiced precision.

"River?" I called out, stopping at the bottom of the steps.

He looked up, and I saw recognition flicker across his weathered face even though we'd never met. "You have her eyes," he said quietly. "Dr. Hayes's eyes. I wondered if you'd come."

"You knew my grandmother."

"I worked for her for fifteen years." He set down his knife and the half-carved bird, gesturing to the empty chair beside him. "Come. Sit. You've traveled a long way for answers, and I'm too old to keep secrets anymore."

I climbed the steps and sat, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might crack my ribs. For three months, I'd been chasing this moment, and now that it was here, I was terrified of what I might learn.

"Tell me what happened," I said. "The night she died—tell me the truth."

River was quiet for a long moment, his gaze distant, lost in memories that still haunted him. Then he began to speak, his voice low and rough, each word falling like stones into still water. "It was late—past midnight. Dr. Hayes was in her office, working on the final data for the Alzheimer's trial. She'd been under so much pressure, you understand. Victor Mellon had been threatening her for months, demanding she falsify results to secure more funding. But she refused. She said she wouldn't compromise the integrity of her research, not even to save the company."

My hands clenched in my lap, nails digging into my palms. "What did Victor do?"

"He came to the facility that night with Vivian—she was his nurse then, his mistress, the woman who'd helped him steal you from your mother years before. I was in the office next door, finishing some filing, when I heard voices raised in anger. I stepped out into the hallway and saw Victor and Vivian standing in the open doorway of Dr. Hayes's office. I hid in the shadows and listened, and what I heard..." He shook his head, his face pale. "Victor told Dr. Hayes that if she didn't sign off on the falsified data, he would kill Sophia. Your mother."

Tears burned my eyes, blurring the trees around us. "And my grandmother..."

"She begged him. I heard her begging, pleading with him to leave Sophia alone, offering anything—her research, her reputation, her life. But Victor wanted more than that. He wanted her to jump. He said if she killed herself, made it look like she'd cracked under the pressure, then he could claim the research as his own, could push through the falsified results without anyone questioning them. He gave her ten minutes. 'You have ten minutes to get to the roof and jump,' he said. 'If you're not dead in ten minutes, I'll make the call, and Sophia's suffering will be on your conscience.' And Vivian stood there beside him, silent and cold, watching Dr. Hayes break down."

"Why didn't you stop them?" The words came out harsher than I'd intended, but I couldn't help it. "Why didn't you call the police?"

"I tried." River's voice cracked, and I saw tears tracking down his weathered cheeks. "As soon as they left, I called 911 from the office phone. But by the time I got to the roof, she was already standing on the edge. She looked at me, and I'll never forget what she said. She said, 'Take care of my girls, River. Tell them I loved them. Tell them I'm sorry.' And then she jumped."

I couldn't breathe. The world tilted sideways, and I gripped the arms of the chair to keep from falling. My grandmother—brilliant, kind, principled—had thrown herself off a building to save her dying daughter. Had sacrificed everything to protect my mother from Victor's cruelty.

"I have proof," River said quietly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small digital recorder, the kind that had been common twenty years ago. "I recorded everything that night. Victor's threats. Vivian's silence. Your grandmother's pleas. I was close enough in the hallway to capture it all. I kept it all these years, too afraid to come forward, too guilty to destroy it. But you're here now, and you deserve the truth."

He pressed the recorder into my hand, and I stared at it, this tiny device that held the key to everything I'd been searching for. My fingers trembled as I pressed play, and Victor's voice filled the air—cold, calculating, merciless. "Sign the papers, Dr. Hayes, or I'll make sure Sophia's last days are agony."

I listened to the entire recording, every word searing itself into my memory like a brand. When it finally ended, I sat in silence, tears streaming down my face, the recorder clutched so tightly in my hand that my knuckles went white. River didn't speak, didn't try to comfort me. He just sat beside me, an old man carrying the weight of guilt and grief, waiting for me to find my voice again.

"Thank you," I finally managed, the words barely audible. "Thank you for keeping this. For giving it to me."

"What will you do with it?" he asked.

"I'm going to give it to the police." I stood, tucking the recorder carefully into my jacket pocket. "Victor is dead, so he can't face justice. But Vivian is still alive, and she's going to pay for what she did."


The journey back to Seattle felt endless. After the long drive from the cabin to the ferry terminal, I stood on the deck as the boat cut through the gray waters, the island receding behind me. The cold salt spray matched the numbness settling in my bones. Every mile, every wave, was weighted with the truth I now carried.

I went straight to the police station, walked up to the front desk, and asked to speak to Detective Sarah—the woman who'd grilled me after Victor's death, who'd looked at me with suspicion and doubt but ultimately let me go. When she came out to meet me, I handed her the recorder without preamble.

"This is a recording from the night my grandmother, Dr. Hayes, committed suicide twenty years ago," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "It proves that Victor and Vivian coerced her into jumping by threatening to kill my mother. I want Vivian charged with conspiracy to commit murder."

Detective Sarah took the recorder, her sharp eyes studying my face. "Victor Mellon is dead," she said carefully. "Even with this evidence, we can't prosecute him."

"I know. But Vivian is alive. And according to what I've learned, she's currently in a psychiatric facility after having a breakdown when Victor and Daniel died. But that doesn't mean she's exempt from facing the consequences of what she did."

Sarah nodded slowly, turning the recorder over in her hands. "I'll need to verify the authenticity of this recording, but if it checks out, we'll move forward with charges. You should know, though, that Vivian is already facing multiple charges—arson resulting in death, child endangerment, conspiracy to commit kidnapping. The DA is pushing for life without parole."

"Good." The word came out cold, final. "She deserves to rot in prison for the rest of her miserable life."