Chapter 18 - VIVIENNE HAD PLANNED TO BETRAY SIMON BEFORE SHE WAS CAUGHTVivienne finally spoke without pretending innocence.
Arthur agreed to attend the interview.
Grant did not.
He wasn’t ready.
Vivienne sat behind a plain table.
No jewelry.
No polished performance.
Arthur placed the copy of her handwritten note down.
Not enough anymore.
“What does it mean?”
Vivienne looked at it.
“I was going to keep the trust control.”
Arthur stared.
“The agreement gave you ninety days.”
“I planned to challenge the independent trustee.”
“Why?”
“Because if I controlled the children’s vote permanently, Simon couldn’t discard me after the merger.”
Arthur felt disgust.
“You wanted leverage.”
“Yes.”
“Against Simon?”
“And Marcel.”
“For safety?”
“At first.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
“And later?”
“Money.”
At least she said it.
“Forty million wasn’t enough?”
Vivienne laughed bitterly.
“Once you convince yourself you deserve something, there’s never an amount that feels enough.”
Arthur leaned back.
“When did you decide the children were obstacles?”
Vivienne’s face changed.
She looked down.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a lie.”
Silence.
Arthur waited.
Finally:
“When Owen started asking about Elise.”
“Why did that bother you?”
“Because everything in that house belonged to her.”
Arthur stared.
“The children too?”
Vivienne’s eyes filled.
“They loved her.”
“She was their mother.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Vivienne swallowed.
“Every time Owen said, ‘Mom used to,’ I heard that I would never be enough.”
Arthur’s anger rose.
“That was your problem.”
“Yes.”
“You made it his.”
“Yes.”
“Maeve?”
“She was younger.”
“So easier?”
Vivienne closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Arthur gripped his cane.
He wanted to leave.
Instead:
“Why the pillow?”
Vivienne went pale.
“I wasn’t trying to suffocate him.”
“I know what Clara saw.”
“I was holding him down.”
“That’s not better.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“He tried to get the red folder.”
“And you panicked.”
“Yes.”
“You used your body and a pillow to pin a twelve-year-old in place.”
“Yes.”
Arthur’s voice stayed low.
“And then mocked me.”
Vivienne almost smiled sadly.
“I was trying to scare them.”
“By telling them their grandfather was too old to help.”
“Yes.”
“Why me?”
“Because Owen believed you would believe him.”
Arthur stopped.
That sentence hurt.
“He said if you came home, everything would stop.”
Vivienne looked at him.
“I needed him to think you couldn’t help.”
Arthur’s throat tightened.
That was the purpose.
Not merely insult.
Isolation.
If the child believes nobody is coming, resistance becomes harder.
“Did Simon teach you that?”
“No.”
Vivienne shook her head.
“That was me.”
Again, no outsourcing.
Arthur asked:
“What did you mean by ‘not enough anymore’?”
Vivienne looked at the paper.
“I planned to copy Simon’s evidence.”
“Which evidence?”
“His forged documents.”
“Why?”
“To control him.”
“Blackmail.”
“Yes.”
“You were becoming him.”
Vivienne’s eyes filled.
“I know.”
Arthur almost said the phrase he had grown to hate.
Instead:
“You wrote Clara a letter three years ago.”
Vivienne nodded.
“You knew you were becoming dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“Because I loved Grant.”
Arthur said nothing.
“And because I was afraid.”
Still nothing.
“And because I wanted the money.”
There.
Vivienne looked at him.
“All three can be true.”
Arthur thought of Elise’s recording.
People who are controlled can still become controllers.
“Yes,” he said.
“They can.”
Vivienne wiped her face.
“Is Owen okay?”
Arthur’s expression hardened.
“You don’t get reports through me.”
She nodded.
“Maeve?”
“No.”
Another nod.
Arthur stood.
Vivienne whispered:
“Arthur.”
He stopped.
“What?”
“I was the one who sent Grant’s first message.”
Arthur turned.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“Not from his phone.”
“Then?”
“Nurse Tessa let him send it.”
“I told her where to find your number.”
Arthur frowned.
“Why?”
“Because by then Simon wanted Grant held another week.”
“And?”
“I realized Marcel was going to complete the vote without me.”
Arthur almost laughed.
“So you helped Grant escape because they were cutting you out.”
“At first.”
“Again.”
Vivienne looked ashamed.
“Then I saw Owen.”
“What do you mean?”
“The day after Grant was taken.”
“Owen sat outside his father’s room all night.”
Arthur’s chest tightened.
Vivienne continued.
“I heard him whispering that he should have saved Grant.”
Arthur looked away.
“I knew what I was doing.”
“Did that stop you?”
“No.”
“That’s the part that matters.”
Vivienne nodded.
“Yes.”
Then she said:
“But I sent Miriam the photograph of Grant in the ambulance.”
Arthur froze.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I kept copies of Simon’s transport records.”
“How did you know Miriam?”
“Simon showed me her old file.”
Arthur stared.
“So the anonymous photographs—”
“Some came from me.”
“Some?”
“Yes.”
“Who sent the others?”
Vivienne looked confused.
“I thought Miriam did.”
Arthur felt cold.
Miriam had sent messages.
Vivienne had sent at least one image through an anonymous channel.
But someone else had been watching too.
“Which ones were yours?”
“The ambulance photo.”
“Simon entering St. Alder?”
“No.”
“Warning about Vault 314?”
“No.”
Arthur stared.
There was still another person.
Someone close to Simon.
Someone who knew his movements.
Detective Carver asked:
“Who else had access to Simon’s schedule?”
Vivienne thought.
“His paralegal.”
“Name?”
Her expression changed.
“Naomi Vale.”
Arthur frowned.
“Vale?”
“His daughter.”
Simon had a daughter?
Arthur had met her once years ago.
Naomi.
Quiet.
Law school.
Then disappeared from firm events.
Vivienne whispered:
“She hated what he was doing.”
Arthur’s pulse jumped.
May you like
If Naomi had been feeding them evidence, then Simon’s own family had turned against him.
And she might know what else he had hidden.
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