Chapter 212
Chapter 212:
“48 hours?” Aurora slammed her hand on the desk. “He doesn’t have 48 hours! He has hours, period!”
“We’re understaffed, ma’am. Please lower your voice.”
Aurora stormed out, defeated by the red tape. She called Elias, but his phone went to voicemail. He was likely in the air or in a secure meeting. She was alone in this.
At the Reed mansion, Noah was lying on the rug in his bedroom. He had tried to get to the bathroom for water, but his legs had given out.
He heard a dog barking somewhere outside. He dragged himself to the window, pulling on the heavy velvet curtains. He wanted to see the dog. He wanted to go outside.
The door opened. Monica stormed in.
“Back in bed!” she scolded. “You need to sweat out the toxins. Why are you on the floor?”
“Thirsty,” Noah rasped.
“No water until dinner,” Monica said, adhering strictly to Vivian’s insane regimen. “It dilutes the herbs.”
She picked him up—he felt alarmingly light—and dumped him back onto the bed. She marched to the window and yanked the curtains shut, plunging the room into a suffocating darkness.
“Rest,” she commanded.
She walked out and closed the door.
At Kensington Manor, Vivian was unveiling a new painting in the gallery. It was a mediocre abstract piece she claimed to have painted herself (she had actually bought it from a desperate art student).
Sebastian stood beside her, holding a glass of scotch. “You have such a gentle soul, Vivian,” Sebastian said, admiring the canvas. “Always creating beauty.”
Vivian sighed, a sound of perfect, practiced melancholy. “I try, Seb. It helps distract me from… the ugliness.”
“Aurora?” Sebastian guessed, his face hardening.
Vivian nodded. “I heard she caused a scene with Monica Reed today. At a children’s store, of all places.”
“What did she do?”
“She tried to sell Monica illegal drugs,” Vivian lied, her voice dropping to a horrified whisper. “For Noah. Can you imagine? Trying to push narcotics on a child?”
Sebastian’s grip on his glass tightened until his knuckles turned white. “She’s stooped that low for money? Dealing?”
“She’s jealous,” Vivian said sadly. “Jealous of anyone with a happy family. She wants to corrupt everything pure.”
Sebastian believed her. It fit the narrative. It fit the “trailer park” bias he held so dear. He ignored the nagging doubt in the back of his mind, the memory of Elias investigating him. It was easier to hate the outsider than to question his sister.
“We need to cut her out completely,” Sebastian vowed. “Before she infects us.”
Aurora arrived at her apartment. She filled the deep kitchen sink with warm water. She washed her hands, scrubbing until the skin was raw, trying to wash away the memory of Noah’s blue lips.
Her phone rang. Video call. Elias.