Chapter 213
Chapter 213:
She propped the phone against the backsplash and answered.
Elias’s face filled the screen. He was in his office, sleeves rolled up, looking tired but alert.
He saw Aurora’s disheveled hair and the water splashed on her shirt. He saw the haunted look in her eyes.
“What happened?” Elias asked immediately. “You look like you’ve been in a fight.”
“I lost a fight,” Aurora admitted, leaning against the counter. “Bureaucracy won. A child is going to die because his mother is an idiot and the law protects her stupidity.”
Elias listened as she poured out the story of the boutique and the DFS office. His face grew dark.
“I can send a private medical team,” Elias offered. “We can force entry.”
“And get arrested for kidnapping?” Aurora shook her head. “Monica would press charges. Vivian would spin it as an assault. We’d lose the bigger war. We can’t save everyone, Elias. That’s the part of this job I hate the most.”
Elias was silent. He wished, with a sudden, fierce intensity, that he could reach through the screen and hold her.
“We’ll make them pay,” Elias promised. “For all of it.”
They talked for an hour. About nothing. About everything. It was a stark contrast to the lies being spun at Kensington Manor. Here, there was just soap, warm water, and truth.
In the dark room at the Reed mansion, Noah tried to crawl out of bed again. His heart was fluttering like a trapped moth.
Thump-thump-thump-pause.
He fell off the mattress. He hit the rug with a dull thud.
He couldn’t get up.
Downstairs, he heard his mother laughing on the phone.
“Oh, Vivian, you’re so funny! Yes, the detox is going great!”
The laughter drifted up the stairs, slipping under the crack of the door. It was the last thing Noah heard before the room started to spin.
He closed his eyes, thinking of the dog he had heard barking. He wished someone would come and pick him up, wrap him in a warm scarf, and say, I’ve got you.
But no one came.
It had been twenty-four hours since the “herbal treatment” began.
Monica Reed stood in front of her vanity mirror, applying a layer of coral lipstick. She was preparing for the Kensington Afternoon Tea, a high-society event she couldn’t afford to miss if she wanted to solidify her standing.
She checked her reflection. Perfect.
She walked down the hall to Noah’s room. She knocked. “Noah? I’m leaving for a few hours. Behave.”
No answer.
“Sulking,” she muttered. “Just like his father.”
She tried the handle. It turned. She peeked in. The room was dark, the lump under the covers motionless.
“Good. Sleep it off.”
She closed the door. Then, she took the key from the top of the doorframe. She inserted it into the lock.