Chapter 5 - Blood on the Drive
Callum reached Evan first.
He caught the front of his jacket and dragged him sideways as Patricia’s car struck the iron gate.
Metal screamed.
One gate tore loose from its hinge and crashed across the gravel.
The sedan spun, struck a stone pillar, and stopped with smoke rising from its hood.
For several seconds, no one moved.
Then the wedding guests began shouting.
Maren ran toward Callum.
He lay on the gravel beside Evan, one sleeve torn at the elbow. Blood darkened his palm where it had scraped against the stones.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
Evan rolled onto his back, gasping.
The impact had missed him by less than a foot.
The security guards rushed to Patricia’s car.
She sat behind the wheel, stunned but conscious. Blood ran from a cut above her eyebrow. Her hands remained locked around the steering wheel.
“It was an accident,” she said as they opened the door. “The accelerator stuck.”
No one believed her.
Callum rose.
“You tried to hit him.”
“I lost control.”
“You aimed at him.”
Patricia looked beyond Callum to Elias.
“You should have stayed gone.”
The words were quiet.
Clear.
And heard by nearly every wedding guest standing nearby.
Elias laughed once.
It was a bitter sound.
“That is what you said twenty-nine years ago.”
Edmund had come down the drive more slowly with Helena.
At Elias’s words, he stopped.
“You were there?” he asked.
Elias looked at him.
“I was two years old. I don’t remember the night. But my father wrote down everything before he vanished.”
Edmund’s knees seemed to weaken.
“He left records?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Patricia struggled against the guard holding her arm.
“Do not answer him.”
Elias looked at her.
“You still think you can order everyone.”
A police siren sounded beyond the trees.
One of the guests had already called emergency services.
Patricia’s face changed again.
She became calm.
Not because she felt safe.
Because she had chosen a new strategy.
She looked at Callum.
“You cannot allow them to arrest me.”
He stared at her.
“You just drove a car at a man.”
“If I am questioned, everything becomes public.”
“Good.”
“The company’s share value will collapse.”
“It is privately held.”
“The lenders will react. Suppliers will withdraw. Thousands of jobs could be threatened.”
Callum’s expression hardened.
“You have used those employees as a shield for years.”
“I protected their livelihoods.”
“You protected your power.”
The police cars arrived.
Two officers separated the crowd while another spoke to the guards.
Paramedics moved toward the damaged car.
Patricia allowed herself to be examined, but when an officer asked whether she had deliberately driven at Elias, she requested a lawyer.
The perfect socialite vanished.
In her place was a calculating executive who understood every word could become evidence.
Maren watched her being escorted toward a police vehicle.
For years, Patricia had entered rooms expecting people to move aside.
Now she was guided between two uniformed officers while her own guests stared.
It should have felt like justice.
Instead, Maren felt only dread.
Patricia had known Elias was alive.
She had intercepted his letters.
She had threatened him before Owen’s birth.
And she had been willing to strike him with a car in front of witnesses.
What else had she done when no one was watching?
Elias refused medical transport, though his shoulder had been badly bruised.
Inside the gatehouse, Helena cleaned a cut on his forehead.
Her hands shook as she worked.
“You could have called me,” she said.
“I thought they were watching you.”
“I spent five years believing you were dead.”
“I know.”
“No, you do not know.”
He looked away.
Maren stood near the window.
Callum had gone to speak with the police. Edmund sat outside on a bench, staring at the broken gate.
Elias watched Maren’s reflection.
“Does Owen know about me?”
“He knows someone named Evan left before he was born.”
“I didn’t want to leave.”
“You did leave.”
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“You let me raise him alone.”
“I sent money.”
“Not to me.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I transferred money every month to the account Patricia gave me.”
Maren turned.
“What account?”
“She said it was a trust for Owen.”
“I never received anything.”
Helena opened the leather folder and searched among the bank records.
“What was the account number?”
Elias recited the last four digits.
Helena found a page.
The account belonged to a foundation registered in Luxembourg.
Its director was Edmund Bellweather.
Maren looked through the window.
The old man remained on the bench.
“He took money meant for Owen.”
Helena examined the transfers.
“No. Look at the outgoing payments.”
Large sums had left the foundation every month.
They were sent to a medical clinic in Switzerland.
The listed patient had no name.
Only a reference code.
A.J.B.
Adrian James Bellweather.
May you like
Elias stood so quickly that the chair fell behind him.
“My father is alive.”
