Saturday morning in the Vale house looked ordinary—too ordinary. Geraldine poured cereal while Lovia ran around in mismatched socks and Reena practiced her violin in the background. The house echoed with innocent chaos.
But inside Geraldine's chest, everything burned.
The flash drive from the estate was now hidden in a hollowed-out copy of Little Women on the third shelf of the living room library. She knew Bekett wouldn't touch that book—he didn't touch anything unless it bled power or fear.
"Mama, can we go to the fair later?" Reena asked, chin tilted in hope.
Geraldine smiled gently. "If you finish your practice before lunch, we'll see."
Bekett had already left. Some "board meeting" that she now knew was code for deals laced in blood.
Lovia hopped onto a chair, whispering like it was a secret: "Did Daddy leave again because he's mad?"
Geraldine knelt in front of her. "No, baby. Sometimes people leave because they're scared of being found out."
Lovia frowned. "Found out for what?"
Geraldine kissed her forehead. "For who they really are."
Later that afternoon, Geraldine dropped the girls off at school. Yes—Saturday school. A new "enrichment program" Bekett insisted on, but Geraldine now suspected it was a way to keep the girls under closer watch.
She walked them in herself. Teachers nodded politely. Security cameras blinked above every door. The private academy had polished floors and dull eyes.
Reena slipped her a folded piece of paper as they said goodbye.
Geraldine waited until she got back to the car before opening it.
"A strange man came to our classroom. He said Daddy sent him. But the teacher looked scared. Please don't tell Daddy I told you." —Reena
Geraldine's pulse stilled.
She dialed Nina. "Are the school's records clean?"
"Clean-ish," Nina answered. "But Bekett bought half the board members. Why?"
"Because someone's using my kids to threaten me."
Back home, she went straight to the nursery camera—yes, she kept one in each of their rooms. It wasn't paranoia anymore; it was survival.
The last 24 hours showed nothing odd.
Except…
A flicker.
Ten minutes of blackout time—just after breakfast, the day before. Someone had tampered with the feed.
She called Lachlan.
"They're watching your girls now," he said flatly. "You've been too quiet. He knows you know something."
"I'm not scared," Geraldine lied.
"You should be," he replied. "This is how it starts. First the scare. Then the snatch."
The next day, Geraldine walked through the school halls like a ghost. She met with the principal—smiling, poised.
"I'd like to be notified of every adult who enters my daughters' classrooms from now on."
The principal hesitated. "We already have security."
Geraldine's smile turned sharp. "Then I suggest you double it. And if I so much as hear a whisper about strange men again, I'll pull funding from this entire institution."
The threat landed.
Money moved mountains.
And hers came wrapped in warning.
That evening, while the girls napped and the house staff cleaned in silence, Bekett returned.
He smelled like cigar smoke and cheap bourbon.
Geraldine met him in the kitchen.
"You were at the estate," he said without preamble.
She didn't flinch. "You mistake me for someone else."
His hand snapped around her wrist.
Tight. Not enough to bruise—but enough to claim.
"I don't like liars."
She leaned close. "Then you shouldn't have married one."
He let go.
She walked past him.
But the fear stayed behind.
Because something in his eyes looked ready.
And when Bekett got ready, people disappeared.
That night, Geraldine read Little Women to Reena and Lovia. Their heads rested on her lap. Their bodies warm. Safe. For now.
But her voice trembled when she read the line:
"I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship."
She closed the book.
Kissed them both.
And when she left their room, she didn't go to bed.
She went to her study, locked the door, and pulled out the flash drive.
Tomorrow, she would send it.
To the press.
To the police.
To everyone who could make noise.
Because this wasn't just about surviving anymore.
It was about ending him.