Victor loved different audiences.
He knew exactly what each person needed to hear.
To investors, he was bold. To charities, generous. To women, wounded and misunderstood. To me, devoted when watched and disappointed when alone.
“What if he planned to say the baby survived?” I asked.
“Then he would need a baby,” Marianne said.
The room changed.
The air thinned.
I looked down at my stomach, at the life moving faintly beneath my palm.
Somewhere between horror and clarity, a new thought formed.
Victor had not meant for Julian to die.
His words on the cliff returned.
Your baby won’t suffer for long.
At the time, I heard it as cruelty.
Now I wondered if it had been reassurance to himself. Or a performance for Serena. Or something worse: proof that he already had another plan.
Adrian’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen and stepped away to answer. “Yes?”
