Chapter 7 - Celia’s Revenge
Celia was gone.
So was Dr. Vale.
Julian had disappeared.
Maxwell ordered the gates sealed.
Too late.
Security footage showed Celia leaving twelve minutes earlier.
Martha sat opposite Maxwell.
“Why would she do this?”
Maxwell stared at an old family photograph.
“My father.”
“What about him?”
“He destroyed people.”
Maxwell told her about Arthur Rourke.
Ruthless.
Controlling.
Obsessed with loyalty.
Celia’s mother, Evelyn, had managed the household for eighteen years.
Then she disappeared.
Officially, she stole money.
Maxwell had been seventeen.
Celia had been fifteen.
“My father threw her out.”
“Did she steal?”
“I never asked.”
They returned to the vault.
Martha found Evelyn Delaney’s file.
Inside was the truth.
Evelyn had discovered Arthur laundering money through employee pension funds.
She threatened to expose him.
Arthur framed her for theft.
She lost everything.
Two years later, she died.
Celia had spent her adult life inside the house that destroyed her mother.
Waiting.
Martha whispered, “She wanted revenge.”
Maxwell’s expression remained hard.
“She poisoned me for fourteen months.”
“She may believe she was destroying your father’s empire.”
“She nearly destroyed me.”
“I’m not defending her.”
Maxwell looked away.
Martha understood something else.
“What did you do after your father died?”
“I took over.”
“Did you change anything?”
Silence.
That answer hurt more than words.
Maxwell had inherited his father’s empire.
And perhaps his sins.
That evening, Julian called.
Maxwell answered.
“Where are you?”
Julian sounded terrified.
“She lied to me.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
“Come back.”
“I can’t.”
“Julian.”
“Vale is with her.”
“Where?”
A crash sounded.
Julian breathed heavily.
“Old Pier Nine.”
The line died.
Maxwell looked at Adrian.
“Car.”
Martha stepped forward.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Martha—”
“Vale understands your medical condition. If this is a trap, you need someone who understands what he’s been giving you.”
Maxwell hated the logic.
Which meant he accepted it.
Pier Nine was abandoned.
Rain hammered the roof.
They found Julian tied to a chair.
Alive.
Barely.
Martha rushed toward him.
Maxwell stopped her.
“Wait.”
A syringe lay on the floor.
Vale appeared from the shadows.
He held a gun.
“You should have stayed home.”
Maxwell stared at him.
“You used Julian.”
Vale smiled.
“Julian was easy.”
“Celia?”
“Celia had purpose.”
“And you?”
“Money.”
At least he was truthful.
Vale explained.
Celia wanted to dismantle the Rourke empire from inside.
Julian wanted control.
Vale wanted wealth.
Their alliance worked until Maxwell began recovering.
Then Julian became afraid.
Celia wanted Maxwell conscious enough to watch everything collapse.
Vale preferred him dead.
“That medication,” Martha said. “You deliberately suppressed his recovery.”
“Yes.”
“For months?”
“Yes.”
“You let him believe his body was permanently broken.”
Vale shrugged.
“That was useful.”
Maxwell’s face became terrifyingly calm.
Vale raised the gun.
“Goodbye, Maxwell.”
A shot rang out.
Martha screamed.
But Vale fell.
Adrian stood behind him.
Julian began sobbing.
Maxwell looked at his brother.
For several seconds, Martha thought he might leave him there.
Instead Maxwell wheeled forward and cut the ropes.
Julian collapsed against him.
“I’m sorry.”
Maxwell said nothing.
But he didn’t push his brother away.
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