Chapter 8 - THE BETRAYAL THAT HURT MOST
The next twenty-four hours moved in a rush of quiet whispers and careful planning. Eleanor delivered a wax impression of the key late that night, trembling as she handed it over. She had brushed against Gareth at the boxing club, pretended to stumble against him, and pressed soft wax to the key hidden beneath his shirt—all in a matter of seconds. He had not suspected a thing.
“He watches everyone,” Eleanor whispered. “Trust no one but Sarah. And watch Julian. He is torn. Gareth threatens to destroy him… but he still loves you, in his own weak way. If Gareth orders him to hurt you… Julian may hesitate. But hesitation is all we need.”
The duplicate key was ready by dawn. Sarah brought it to me, along with terrible news.
“Someone leaked our court filings to the press last night,” she said, her voice tight. “Every scandalous detail leaked—your accusations against Julian, Eleanor’s name dragged through public mud, claims of conspiracy. Reporters are camped outside the hospital. They are printing every lie Gareth feeds them.”
I felt sick. “Who leaked it? Only three people knew we were filing.”
“Which means one of us spoke,” Sarah said quietly. “And I did not. You did not.”
We stared at each other.
Eleanor.
“He came to her last night,” I whispered. “After she made the impression. Gareth confronted her. Threatened her. And she… she broke.”
Before I could say more, my phone buzzed. A message from Julian. No name. No signature. Just one line:
*Eleanor told him everything. He knows about the key. He knows about the bank. Do not go. It is a trap.*
My hands shook.
Sarah snatched the phone, read the words, and her face hardened. “We call this off. Now. We alert authorities. We get protection.”
“And let Gareth destroy us legally while he hides behind forged documents and lies?” I pushed myself up, ignoring the faint dizziness. “No. If he expects us at the bank… then he will be there. Waiting. But what if we change the time? What if we go now—before he is ready?”
“Gen, you cannot even walk properly—”
“I can walk enough,” I said, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. Pain shot through me, sharp and burning, but I stood. Shaky. Unsteady. But standing. “And Gareth believes I cannot leave this room. He will not expect me to show up myself.”
Sarah looked at me, anguish in her eyes. “If anything happens—”
“Nothing will happen,” I said, pulling on the clothes Sarah had brought. “Because Julian warned us. Which means he is on our side, however weakly. And because we know it is a trap. Forewarned is forearmed, Sarah. Please. Help me dress. We end this today.”
Sarah took a breath, nodded once sharply. “Fine. But I drive. I go in first. You stay in the car until I signal. And if anything looks wrong… we vanish. Understood?”
“Understood.”
I moved slowly, painfully, but I moved. For the first time since giving birth, I walked out of that hospital room. Down the corridor past staring nurses. Out the rear exit to Sarah’s car. Away from cameras, away from threats, away from everything Gareth thought he had me contained within.
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He had trapped a helpless woman in a hospital bed. But he had forgotten—Genevieve Vance did not stay trapped.
And today, I was walking straight into his trap. On purpose.
