Chapter 10 - The Stranger in Sabina’s Room
The townhouse entered immediate lockdown.
Security officers searched every room, vent, window, and access point.
No hidden intruder was found.
The hallway cameras showed no one entering Sabina’s bedroom after Vivian left it the night before.
Yet the envelope had appeared beneath her pillow.
Daniel examined the paper.
It was ordinary stationery, but the ink contained a rare chemical tracer used in Ashford Biogenics laboratories more than a decade earlier.
August Vale had either entered the townhouse or sent someone who could.
Sabina sat at the kitchen table with Vivian.
“Did you see anyone last night?” Vivian asked.
Sabina shook her head.
“Did you wake up?”
“I heard Grandpa singing.”
Vivian went still.
Both of Sabina’s grandfathers were dead.
“What song?”
“The one about the moon and the river.”
Vivian knew it.
Alistair had sung that old lullaby to Sabina when she was a baby.
“Did you see him?”
“No. I heard it through the wall.”
Security inspected the adjoining room.
Behind a wardrobe, they found a small speaker attached to a wireless receiver.
Someone had installed it before Vivian arrived.
The secure townhouse was not secure.
Daniel relocated them that afternoon to a guarded suite inside Saint Catherine’s Hospital. Only medical staff and trust officers could enter the floor.
Dr. Price remained in intensive care.
His injuries included two broken ribs, dehydration, and traces of a sedative. Police hoped to interview him again when he stabilized.
Thatcher issued a statement denying any connection to the vault incident.
He also requested an emergency hearing, claiming Vivian was exposing Sabina to escalating danger.
His argument was simple.
Every threat had occurred while Sabina was in Vivian’s custody.
Vivian understood the trap.
If she continued investigating, danger would follow.
If she stopped, Thatcher might regain control.
She met privately with Elias Harcourt.
He had reviewed the Halcyon agreement and agreed to suspend the transfer.
“I should have questioned the documents,” he said.
“You should have left the dinner when you heard a child had been taken to the hospital.”
“Yes.”
His direct admission disarmed her.
“Why did you want Ashford Biogenics?”
“My company is developing treatments for autoimmune disease. I believed the Ashford patents included a platform that could save lives.”
“Project Sable?”
“I did not know its name until this week.”
“Who approached you?”
“Beatrix.”
“Not Thatcher?”
“She claimed Thatcher had discovered lost research left by Alistair.”
Vivian leaned forward.
“What exactly did she promise?”
“A compound capable of switching immune responses on and off.”
“That technology does not exist.”
Harcourt studied her.
“She said you had already perfected it.”
“I shut the project down.”
“She said that was the public story.”
Vivian thought of Dr. Price’s words.
Project Sable was not a failure.
August changed the samples.
If the original formula worked, it could be worth more than Ashford Industries itself.
It could also be weaponized.
“Did Beatrix mention August Vale?”
“No. But she referred to a scientist called the Architect.”
Daniel’s investigators found the same title in old corporate correspondence.
The Architect had sent encrypted instructions to several shell companies associated with Gideon Vale.
Payments were made to private laboratories, security contractors, and political consultants.
The network had operated for years.
That evening, Dr. Price regained consciousness.
Vivian entered his room with Daniel and a detective.
Price looked older than he had a week before.
“Tell us everything,” Vivian said.
He nodded.
After August Vale’s supposed death, Beatrix had approached Dr. Price. She possessed samples from Project Sable and wanted access to Ashford family medical records.
At first, she claimed the research would be used to develop treatments.
Over time, Price realized she was testing compounds on selected individuals without consent.
“Who were the subjects?” Vivian asked.
“Employees. Patients. People whose symptoms would not attract attention.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did anyone die?”
Price looked away.
“How many?”
“Three that I know of.”
The detective began taking notes.
“Why was Sabina targeted?” Vivian asked.
“Because the compound reacts differently in people with your genetic markers.”
“My genetic markers?”
“August believed Alistair’s bloodline carried a rare immune trait.”
Vivian thought about the photograph of Alistair and her mother.
“Did Thatcher know I might be Alistair’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
The room became silent.
“How long?”
“Before he married you.”
Vivian closed her eyes.
Their first meeting.
Their courtship.
His sudden devotion.
The marriage proposal beneath the old oak tree.
Every memory changed shape.
“He married me for access to the bloodline.”
Price nodded faintly.
“Alistair suspected it. That’s why he placed the assets in Sabina’s trust.”
“Why didn’t he warn me?”
“He tried.”
“When?”
“The night before his death.”
Alistair had died from a heart attack in his study.
Vivian remembered arriving at the manor and finding Thatcher beside the body.
“What did Alistair try to tell me?”
“He recorded a message.”
“Where is it?”
“In the vault.”
“Why did you help them poison Sabina?”
Price began crying.
“They had my daughter.”
Vivian’s anger paused.
“What?”
“Beatrix took her two years ago. She told me Caroline had left the country. She sent photographs to prove she was alive.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know.”
Price reached toward the bedside drawer.
“The day Sabina became ill, I prepared a diluted dose. It should have caused sleepiness and mild fever. Thatcher took the bottle.”
“But Sabina nearly died.”
“Someone replaced it with a stronger concentration.”
“Who?”
“I believe August.”
“Why would he risk killing her if he needs her to open the vault?”
Price looked toward the door.
“He does not need Sabina alive.”
Vivian’s voice dropped.
“What does that mean?”
“The guardian authorization can be activated through a living heir.”
“Yes.”
“But the death of the primary heir activates Alistair’s emergency succession protocol.”
“Who becomes the next heir?”
Price looked directly at Vivian.
“Your next child.”
Vivian stared at him.
“I don’t have another child.”
May you like
Price’s expression filled with fear.
“Yes,” he whispered. “You do.”
