Chapter 227
Chapter 227:
“Ms. Vance,” she said, nodding respectfully. She knew. She knew Aurora had clamped the artery. She knew Aurora had saved Vivian’s life on that stage, even when Vivian didn’t deserve it.
“Will she recover?” Aurora asked.
“Functionally? Maybe fifty percent with therapy,” Dr. Shaw said. “Psychologically? That’s not my department.”
Eleanor spotted Aurora through the glass. She charged at the door, her face twisted with rage.
“You!” she mouthed, slamming her hand against the glass.
Edward caught her from behind. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back. He wasn’t hugging her. He was restraining her.
“Enough, Eleanor,” Edward said. Aurora could hear his voice through the glass, muffled but firm. “It’s over.”
Eleanor slumped in his arms, sliding to the floor, weeping into her hands.
Aurora looked at them one last time. The broken family. The shattered glass. The girl in the bed who would never play the piano or hold a microphone steady again.
She turned on her heel. The sound of her boots on the hospital linoleum was steady, rhythmic. She walked away.
The library at Kensington Manor was usually a place of quiet power. Today, it felt like a courtroom.
Aurora stood by the window, watching the rain strip the last of the autumn leaves from the trees. Her boxes were packed in the hallway. She was leaving. She had found her identity, but she had no desire to claim the toxicity that came with it.
Matriarch Beatrice sat behind the massive oak desk. Edward sat in a leather armchair, a glass of scotch in his hand at 10 AM. Eleanor was pacing, her makeup smudged, looking like a woman on the verge of a breakdown.
G a lno ve ls . com is where the magic begins
“Sit down, Eleanor,” the Matriarch said. Her voice was brittle.
“I can’t sit!” Eleanor cried. “Vivian needs specialists. There’s a neurosurgeon in Zurich. We need to fly her there immediately.”
The Matriarch placed a document on the desk. The paper made a sharp slap sound.
“Read it,” the Matriarch said.
Eleanor picked it up. Her eyes scanned the header. “Trust Fund Modification? What is this?”
“I am freezing Vivian’s assets,” the Matriarch said calmly. “And yours.”
“What?” Eleanor dropped the paper. “You can’t! The medical bills alone will be astronomical! And the lawyers for the Reed lawsuit…”
“The estate will pay for the settlement to the Reed family,” the Matriarch said. “Directly. To ensure they don’t sue us into oblivion. And we will pay for Vivian’s basic medical care here. In New York.”
“Basic?” Eleanor shrieked. “She is a Kensington!”
“She is a liability,” the Matriarch corrected. “I will not fund a trip to Zurich. I will not fund her PR team to spin this. And I will certainly not fund your lifestyle while you enable her.”
Eleanor turned to Edward. “Do something! She’s your daughter!”
Edward took a slow sip of his scotch. He didn’t look at Eleanor. He looked at the fireplace.