Chapter 6 - The Patient Without a Name
Edmund denied it.
He denied it before Helena finished asking the question.
He denied it when Elias showed him the transfer records.
He denied it even after Callum returned from speaking with the police and demanded the truth.
“Adrian died in the sea,” Edmund said.
“Then why did you send money to a clinic using his initials?” Elias asked.
“It was not for him.”
“Who was it for?”
Edmund looked toward the broken gate.
“I cannot tell you.”
Elias grabbed the front of his jacket.
Helena stepped between them.
“Let him go.”
“He knows where my father is.”
“He may also be the only person who can lead us to him.”
Reluctantly, Elias released him.
Edmund straightened his collar.
The familiar dignity returned, but it no longer carried authority.
“Patricia established the foundation,” he said.
“The account is in your name,” Callum replied.
“She told me it was necessary to fund private treatment for an employee.”
“You signed millions away without asking who the patient was?”
“I asked.”
“And?”
“She said it was someone whose condition could expose the family.”
Maren felt disgust rise in her throat.
“So you continued paying.”
“I was told the patient would die without treatment.”
“You believed that?”
Edmund looked at her.
“I wanted to.”
The answer was honest enough to be terrible.
Elias paced the gatehouse.
“What clinic?”
Helena pointed to the transfer code.
“Saint-Rémy Institute.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It is not a hospital in the ordinary sense,” Callum said. “Bellweather Holdings once supplied medical security systems to private treatment facilities. Saint-Rémy specializes in neurological trauma and protected identities.”
Elias looked at him.
“You know where it is?”
“Near Montreux.”
“Then we go now.”
Callum shook his head.
“Patricia has spent decades controlling access. The clinic will not hand over a patient because we arrive at the door.”
“She may call them from the police station.”
“She may already have issued instructions.”
Maren thought of Owen upstairs.
“No one goes anywhere until we know he is safe.”
Callum nodded.
“We move him away from the estate.”
“To where?”
“My apartment in the city.”
“Your mother knows it.”
Helena closed the folder.
“I have a house.”
Elias laughed.
“She knows where you live too.”
“Not the new one.”
“You bought a new house?”
“I learned to be cautious while searching for you.”
Helena explained that she owned a small property under her sister’s married name. It stood near an old coastal village two hours away. Few people knew it existed.
Maren disliked the idea of taking Owen anywhere with Elias.
He was still a stranger, whatever his blood connection.
But the estate no longer felt safe.
Patricia had employees, lawyers, and loyal directors. She had spent decades building systems that operated even when she was not present.
Callum agreed they should leave immediately.
The wedding guests were asked to return home.
Some offered sympathy. Others avoided Maren’s eyes, embarrassed by how eagerly they had attended what was supposed to be Patricia’s grand social event.
The minister found Maren near the garden.
“The license remains valid,” he said gently. “Whenever you are ready.”
She looked at the rows of empty chairs.
The wind had begun to lift white petals from the aisle.
“I don’t know when that will be.”
“A marriage is not the ceremony.”
“No.”
“But sometimes a ceremony is how we tell the world we have chosen.”
Maren thought of Callum pulling Elias away from the car.
Of him kneeling before Owen in the kitchen.
Of the document that would strip him of power the moment he married her.
“I know what I chose,” she said. “I’m not sure he should be forced to pay for it.”
The minister followed her gaze toward Callum.
“Perhaps you should allow him to decide what you are worth.”
Before sunset, they packed two vehicles.
Mrs. Alvarez insisted on coming.
“I have cared for this family since Callum was ten,” she said. “I know where Patricia hides keys, documents, and emergency telephones. You will need me.”
Edmund asked to join them.
Callum refused.
“You signed the agreement.”
“I can help.”
“You have had thirty years to help.”
“Callum.”
“Stay here. Speak to the police. Tell them everything.”
Edmund looked toward Owen.
The boy stood near the car holding his yellow backpack.
“May I say goodbye?”
Owen looked at Maren.
She let him decide.
He approached Edmund cautiously.
The old man knelt.
“I am sorry.”
“For signing the rule?”
“Yes.”
“Do you still think I’m not family?”
Edmund’s eyes filled.
“I think I was afraid of what your being family would reveal.”
“That’s not the same question.”
Edmund looked at him for a long moment.
“No,” he said. “I do not think that anymore.”
Owen took the crushed white rose from his pocket and placed it in Edmund’s hand.
“You can keep this because you look sad.”
Then he returned to Maren.
As the cars left Bellweather House, she watched Edmund grow smaller in the mirror.
He stood alone beneath the broken gate.
An hour later, halfway to the coast, Callum received a message from his grandfather.
It contained a photograph of a handwritten page.
The page was signed by Adrian Bellweather.
May you like
At the bottom was a warning.
If my son ever returns, Patricia will try to use the boy to open the Blackwood Vault.
