My Parents Skipped the Funeral of My Husband and Two Children for My Sister’s Birthday, but Six Months Later, One Headline Made Them Panic When They Discovered What I Had Done. / Chapter 45 / 121

Chapter 45 - The Price of Blood

The audio feed hummed with a sick, high-pitched feedback. On the screen, Eleanor looked up, her face pale, the skin beneath her eyes sagging into deep purple hollows. She had lost an earring, and her silk blouse was torn at the collar.

"Victoria! Please!" Eleanor shrieked into the camera, her voice grating and hysterically thin. "We did what you asked! We gave you the dates! We signed the deeds over to Arthur’s blind trust! It was Evelyn’s birthday—we had to be there! We couldn't look suspicious!"

Beside her, Evelyn raised her head, her swollen eyes wild with panic. "Aunt Victoria, I had nothing to do with this! It was Mom! Mom said if we let Ethan die, Arthur would get the foundation seat and I’d get the Manhattan penthouse! I didn't want Claire’s kids dead! Please, let me go!"

Listening to them tore the final, lingering remnants of my childhood affection into ragged strips. There was no remorse in that room. No sorrow for the funerals they skipped. No grief for Leo and Maya, who had slept in their beds while these two monsters negotiated their execution over catered appetizers.

"They sound pathetic, don't they?" Victoria observed, watching my reaction with predatory amusement. "Eleanor thought four hundred million was an astronomical fortune. She never understood that to people like Beatrice and myself, money is merely the grease on the cogs of real power: leverage."

Victoria turned back to the terminal and keyed the intercom.

"Eleanor," Victoria spoke into the microphone.

The woman on the screen jerked upright, staring into the lens with desperate hope. "Victoria! Oh god, Victoria, thank heaven. Claire has the codes, doesn't she? Tell her to give them up! Tell her she owes it to us! We raised her! We gave her everything!"

"Claire is sitting right across from me," Victoria said smoothly. "And I have just offered her a simple transaction. The cipher she holds controls forty-two offshore accounts, containing the hidden identities of ninety federal officials, foreign ministers, and shadow shareholders. If she surrenders the key, I will let Ethan and her children vanish into the Pacific Northwest."

Eleanor’s eyes widened, not with relief for her grandchildren, but with frantic avarice. "What about us? What about Evelyn and me?"

"That," Victoria smiled, "is entirely up to Claire. You see, Eleanor, your daughter holds the execution switch. If she enters the primary key, your cell door unlocks, and an escort will take you to an airfield. If she enters the second key, the ventilation in your chamber will switch to high-density nitrogen within forty seconds."

Victoria stepped back from the console, turning the auxiliary keyboard toward me.

"Two keys, Claire. One releases your mother and sister into exile. The other ensures they never breathe another lungful of air on this earth. Give me the sovereign cipher, and choose who lives."

I stared at the screen. Eleanor was now banging on the reinforced glass partition, her mouth open in a soundless scream of terror, while Evelyn collapsed into violent sobs, clawing at her own hair.

Six months ago, I stood alone in the cold autumn rain beside three polished oak caskets, listening to the church bells chime for an empty hall, while five miles away, Evelyn blew out candles surrounded by my mother’s proud, beaming laughter.

"They chose their birthday party," I whispered, my voice stone-cold, devoid of any trembling.

I looked up into Victoria’s eyes.