Chapter 81

Chapter 81
Eloise's POV

The charity gala was only two days away, and I should have felt completely in control. Every detail falling perfectly into place. But something was wrong.

I stood at my bedroom window, watching Anna cross the courtyard below. She'd been acting strange lately, more secretive. Yesterday I'd caught her coming back from town looking unusually focused, like she'd been handling important business rather than simple errands.

And Sophia. That girl had been disappearing for hours at a time.

As I turned from the window, I heard voices from the servant's corridor. Two of the younger maids, speaking in hushed tones.

"...heard them talking about the truth..."

"...something about when it all started..."

My blood froze. I pressed myself against the wall, straining to hear more.

"Mrs. Patterson said someone's been asking questions about the old days," one whispered. "About what really happened back then."

"Shh! You know what they say about people who talk too much around here."

Their footsteps faded down the hall. Someone was investigating. Someone was digging into the past.

Who? How much do they know?

I forced myself to breathe normally, to think clearly. I couldn't let some unknown threat destroy everything now.

I need insurance. I need someone I can trust completely.

Vincent. The name popped into my head and I almost laughed out loud.

No. Not Vincent. Anyone but Vincent.

But even as I tried to push the idea away, I knew it was my only option. Vincent Ashford, the man I'd loved once, the man I'd tried to kill, the man who knew my darkest secret. The charity gala was tomorrow night. I was running out of time.

That evening, I sent word through my most discreet contacts. The old place. Midnight. Come alone.

I hadn't seen Vincent in three years, but I knew he'd come. He always came when I called, even after everything that had happened between us.

The abandoned church stood on the outskirts of the city, its Gothic spires reaching toward the moon like skeletal fingers. We'd met here so many times when we were young, when I thought love was more important than survival.

How naive I was then.

I arrived first, my black cloak pulled tight against the autumn chill. The church doors creaked as I pushed them open.

He was already there, standing in the shadows near the altar where we used to whisper promises to each other. Promises I'd broken without hesitation.

"Eloise." His voice was rougher than I remembered, aged by years of bitterness. "You finally decided to remember I exist?"

Vincent looked older, lines around his eyes, gray threading through his dark hair. But those green eyes still held the same mixture of love and hatred that had haunted my dreams for sixteen years.

"Vincent," I said softly, letting my voice carry the weight of old affection. "You look well."

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Do I? Living in exile tends to age a person, especially when they're constantly looking over their shoulder for assassins."

"I know you hate me," I said, stepping closer. "I know you have every right to hate me. But I need your help."

"Help?" His eyebrows rose in disbelief. "You tried to poison me, Eloise. You literally tried to kill me. And now you want my help?"

"I had my reasons."

"Your reasons?" Vincent's voice rose dangerously. "Your reason was that I was inconvenient. Your reason was that marrying Juan Stewart was more profitable than staying with me."

I felt a flicker of the old guilt, but pushed it down. "I made the choices I had to make. We were broke, Vincent. My family had nothing. I couldn't live in poverty just because of some romantic fantasy."

"So you decided to murder me instead."

"I decided to set us both free," I said firmly. "But you survived. You escaped. And now I need you to help me again."

Vincent stared at me for a long moment, his jaw clenched. "You're unbelievable. Even now, you think you can just walk back into my life and demand favors."

"I can pay you."

"I don't want your money."

"Then what do you want?"

He turned away from me, staring at the broken cross above the altar. "I want the last sixteen years of my life back."

"Zaid is your son."

Vincent went completely still, his back rigid. For what felt like an eternity, neither of us moved.

Finally, he turned around slowly, his face white as bone.

"What did you say?"

"Zaid is your son," I repeated, my voice steady. "I was already pregnant when I married Juan."

Vincent's legs gave out. He collapsed onto one of the broken pews, staring at me with wide, desperate eyes.

"That's... that's impossible."

"You know it's not. Think about the timeline, Vincent. We were together until the very end. I didn't break things off until after I accepted Juan's proposal."

"But you said..." His voice cracked. "You said there was nothing between us anymore. You said you never loved me."

"I lied." The admission came easier than I'd expected.

Vincent buried his face in his hands. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me I had a son?"

"Because I couldn't." I moved closer, letting my voice soften with manufactured emotion. "Don't you think I wanted to? Don't you think I wanted to give him his real father? But Juan could never know the truth. If he found out Zaid wasn't his biological heir..."

"He'd disown him," Vincent whispered.

"Or worse. He'd have us both killed." I knelt beside the pew, placing my hand on his arm. "I've been protecting our son for sixteen years, Vincent. Protecting him from the truth because the truth would destroy him."

Vincent looked up at me, and I saw tears streaming down his face. "I have a son. I have a son and I've never even spoken to him."

"You've seen him, though. In the village markets, at public events. Juan's been grooming him to take over the business. Zaid's brilliant, Vincent. Just like you were at that age."

"He's really mine?"

"He's really yours."

Vincent was quiet for a long time, processing everything. I watched the emotions play across his face, shock, joy, grief, anger. Finally, he wiped his eyes and looked at me directly.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because he's in danger."

Vincent's expression sharpened immediately. "What kind of danger?"

"Juan's eldest daughter has been investigating our family. She's been asking questions, digging into the past. If she discovers Zaid's true parentage..."

"Juan would disinherit him."

"At best. At worst, he'd see it as the ultimate betrayal. He'd kill us both and probably Zaid too, just to eliminate any witnesses to his humiliation."

Vincent stood up abruptly, pacing to the altar and back. "What do you want me to do?"

Hook, line, and sinker.

"The threat has to be eliminated," I said simply. "Permanently."

"You want me to kill Juan's daughter."

"I want you to protect our son."

Vincent stopped pacing, his green eyes boring into mine. "Don't manipulate me, Eloise. If you want me to commit murder, at least have the honesty to say so directly."

I stood up as well, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Fine. I want you to kill Sophia Stewart. She's getting too close to the truth, and if she exposes us, Zaid will pay the price."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then our son dies when the truth comes out. And you'll have lost him forever, just like you lost me."

The silence stretched between us. Vincent's jaw worked as he fought some internal battle.

"How do I know you're not lying about Zaid?"

I smiled, pulling out a small silver locket I'd worn hidden beneath my dress. Inside was a tiny portrait.

"Look at this, then look at Zaid the next time you see him. Tell me there's no resemblance."

Vincent stared at the portrait for a long moment, his hand shaking. "He really is mine."

"He really is yours. And he needs his father to protect him now."

Another long silence. Then, finally, Vincent's shoulders sagged in defeat.

"Tell me what you need me to do."

"There's a charity gala tomorrow night. Sophia will be there, along with half the nobility in the capital. It needs to look like an accident, a fall down the stairs, a reaction to something she ate, a chandelier coming loose. Use your imagination."

"And after it's done?"

"You disappear again. Go back to your exile, live your quiet life in the country. And know that you've saved your son's future."

Vincent nodded slowly.

Good. I need you sharp for this, Vincent. I need you focused.

But as I watched him process everything I'd told him, a small part of my mind was already working on the next phase. Vincent knew too much now. He knew about Zaid's parentage, he knew about my involvement in eliminating threats to my position. Once Sophia was dead, Vincent himself would become a liability.

"When do you need an answer?" Vincent asked.

"I need an answer now."

He looked around the ruined church, at the broken windows and crumbling stonework. This place had once held so much promise for us. Now it was just a monument to dead dreams and necessary sacrifices.

"All right," he said finally. "I'll do it. For our son."

I smiled, letting genuine relief show on my face. "Thank you, Vincent. I know this isn't easy."

As I walked toward the church doors, I felt the familiar rush of satisfaction that came with a plan falling into place. Vincent would eliminate Sophia, protecting my secret and my position. Then Vincent himself would have to be eliminated, protecting me from his knowledge of too many dangerous truths.

I paused at the threshold of the church and looked back at Vincent one more time. He was still standing by the altar, staring down at the locket in his hands.

"Vincent?"

He looked up.

"It really is good to see you again."

For just a moment, his expression softened, and I caught a glimpse of the man I'd once thought I might actually love.

"Goodbye, Eloise."

Yes, I thought as I stepped out into the night. Goodbye indeed.