Chapter 596 The Truth
It was late at night. Celeste watched Zachary, who was sprawled out on the couch, totally absorbed in his video game. The screen's light flickered across his face.
"Zachary," she asked softly, "why are you helping me?"
The game over sound chimed from his phone. Zachary tossed it aside and, for once, looked serious. "Remember the year you first started hanging out with Michael? It was snowing like crazy, and you were out in the garden feeding stray cats." He chuckled. "I thought to myself, this girl is so naive, it's kinda cute."
The next morning, just as the nurse finished changing her bandages, Celeste's phone buzzed. The name "Michael" on the screen made her go pale.
Zachary snatched the phone. "Michael? Celeste is with me." He winked at Celeste. "My mom's been on my case about finding a girlfriend, so I asked Celeste to help out. She agreed. You, as her brother, should chill out or you'll go gray early!"
There was a brief silence on the other end before Michael's voice came through, cold as ice. "Zachary, you better not be lying to me."
After hanging up, Zachary's smile faded.
Celeste's hands trembled as she clutched the bedsheet. "Maybe I should..."
"Shut up," Zachary snapped, glaring at her. "Lie down! Since I'm handling this, not even God can interfere until the baby is safe!"
He pulled out another phone and made a call. "Get my estate ready. Yes, tonight." He turned to Celeste, raising an eyebrow. "Michael wouldn't dare come to my place to take you."
The estate was nestled halfway up a hill, with crabapple trees in full bloom. Zachary walked in carrying a thermos. "Try this. It's soup made by a Michelin three-star chef."
Celeste sipped the hot soup, listening to him on the balcony. "Celeste is chatting with my mom right now. She'll call you back when she can! She's in her twenties, not a kid. Relax..."
The evening breeze scattered crabapple petals into the room. Watching Zachary lie for her, Celeste suddenly realized how broad his shoulders seemed.
"Zachary," she said softly, "once the baby is stable, I'll leave."
A petal landed on Zachary's shoulder as he turned. He smiled nonchalantly. "Why leave? This kid's going to call me godfather."
George's fingers flew over the keyboard, surveillance footage flashing on the screen. His eyes were bloodshot, and his coffee cup was empty. Suddenly, the footage froze on a woman in a baseball cap, holding Seraphine's hand as they left the park. Seraphine looked up, trusting, as she followed "Mommy."
"Got it!" George jumped up, his chair scraping loudly. He zoomed in on the woman's profile. "That's not Emma."
Emma took the USB drive, trembling. The woman in the video wore her clothes but moved stiffly. When the camera caught her speaking to Seraphine, Emma was stunned. It was Wanda!
"How?" She dug her nails into her palm.
George's face darkened as he pulled up another video: airport surveillance showing Wanda being greeted by Michael. They chatted in the VIP lounge, Michael even patting Wanda's shoulder affectionately.
"All signs point to Michael," George said hoarsely. "He orchestrated this."
Emma collapsed onto the couch, Seraphine's innocent smile flashing in her mind.
She recalled asking a friend to investigate, confirming Wanda's connection to Michael.
And it was deep!
"Why?" Emma clutched her chest, her breath sharp. "Seraphine called him Daddy!"
Outside, the rain poured, lightning illuminating her pale face.
Memory flashed to Celeste's whispered words days ago: "Emma, you have no idea what Michael did to get you."
George found Wanda's therapy records, showing she met Michael secretly after each session. The last entry read: "R requested to expedite, target showing signs of doubt."
"He manipulated my treatment." George slammed the folder down.
Emma stood abruptly, rain casting twisted shadows on her face. "I need to see Wanda."
George ruffled his hair in frustration. "You can't. Sunterra said she never returned, and she's vanished here too." He shut his laptop. "But we can check her apartment."
Wanda's apartment had been broken into. Emma stepped over shattered glass, the air still heavy with perfume. The vanity was littered with medication. George picked up a tube of ointment, his face paling.
"This is post-surgery recovery cream," he said tightly. "She altered her face to impersonate you."
Emma opened a drawer, finding illegal drugs. George examined one. "This is a strong sedative, usually used for..." He fell silent, recognizing the Russell Group logo.
"Michael prepared everything." Emma sat on the messy bed, finding a medical file under the mattress. The first page showed Wanda's photo with the note: "Post-op recovery good, 85% resemblance."
Their suspicions were confirmed: Wanda approached George with a purpose.
Back in the car, Emma broke down, sobbing into the steering wheel. Wanda's phone, taken from the apartment, lit up with a photo of her and Seraphine at the park.
"That bastard!" George punched the window. "He planned to kill Seraphine all along!"
Emma, tear-streaked, remembered something worse. "He said he'd handle Seraphine's funeral personally, no viewing."
They exchanged a look and rushed to the coroner's office.
The old coroner recognized them. "Mr. Russell insisted on immediate cremation for the little girl. Paid double."
Outside, Emma stood in the downpour, letting the rain mix with her tears. She dialed a familiar number.
"Michael," her voice was ghostly, "I found Seraphine's butterfly clip in your study."
The line went silent.
"Why keep it?" Emma screamed, "To remember the daughter you killed?"
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