They left through the passage.
Richard went first, followed by Claire's father, Claire, Daniel, Vanessa, Elliot, and finally Marlene.
The tunnel was narrow enough that Claire's shoulders brushed the stone walls.
Every few steps, she felt cold moisture against her arm.
Nobody spoke.
The silence was broken only by footsteps and the distant hum of the city beyond the walls.
Claire kept thinking about the camera.
Someone had been watching them.
Someone knew she was pregnant.
Someone knew about the trust.
And someone knew they had discovered Celia Voss.
At the end of the tunnel, Richard pushed open a rusted metal door.
Night air rushed in.
Claire inhaled deeply.
They emerged behind a row of abandoned garages.
Her father's driver was already waiting.
Claire stared.
“How did he know?”
Her father looked at Richard.
Richard shook his head.
“I didn't call him.”
The driver stepped out.
“Sir, we need to go.”
“Why?”
The driver looked toward the street.
“Three cars have been circling the block.”
Everyone turned.
A black sedan passed slowly.
Then continued.
A second vehicle followed.
Claire's father swore under his breath.
“Get Claire inside.”
They moved quickly.
Claire entered the SUV.
Daniel climbed in beside her.
She immediately moved to the opposite side.
He noticed.
He said nothing.
The others entered the second vehicle.
The driver accelerated.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then Daniel finally said, “Claire.”
She looked out the window.
“I know you don't trust me.”
“You're right.”
“I want to explain.”
“I don't want an explanation.”
“You deserve one.”
“I deserved the truth before I married you.”
Daniel looked down.
“I know.”
Claire turned toward him.
“Did you ever love me?”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Then why did you lie?”
“Because I was weak.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You lied because it benefited you.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“That too.”
The honesty surprised her.
Daniel looked toward the window.
“My mother taught me that survival meant choosing the person most likely to protect you. I believed her.”
“And you chose me.”
“I chose your protection.”
Claire stared.
“You don't get to call manipulation protection.”
“I know.”
The SUV suddenly slowed.
Ahead, traffic had stopped.
A delivery truck blocked the road.
Richard's vehicle was directly behind them.
The driver tried to turn.
A motorcycle pulled alongside.
A man wearing a helmet looked through the window.
Claire's father shouted.
“Keep driving!”
The motorcycle disappeared.
The truck moved.
Traffic began flowing again.
Nothing happened.
Yet Claire knew the encounter had not been random.
The driver turned onto a quieter street.
A few minutes later, he stopped outside a small private medical clinic.
Claire frowned.
“Why are we here?”
Her father opened the door.
“Because I want another examination.”
“I already had one.”
“I know.”
He looked at her seriously.
“I want to make sure you're safe.”
Claire hesitated.
Then nodded.
Inside the clinic, the lights were bright and clean.
A doctor examined her and reassured everyone that the baby appeared fine.
Claire nearly cried from relief.
Afterward, her father waited outside the room.
Daniel remained seated in the hallway.
He looked exhausted.
Claire came out.
He stood.
“I heard the doctor.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
He looked at her.
“Claire, I know I may have lost you.”
“You did.”
The words were gentle.
That made them worse.
Daniel closed his eyes.
“I understand.”
Claire walked past him.
Then stopped.
“One thing.”
He looked up.
“Where is your father?”
Daniel froze.
“I don't know.”
“Think.”
“I was told he died.”
“By Marlene?”
“Yes.”
Claire nodded.
“Then we're going to find out.”
Daniel looked terrified.
“Why?”
“Because whoever is threatening me may know the truth.”
They returned to the hotel where her father had arranged rooms under a different name.
Elliot was waiting.
He had spread documents across a table.
“Celia Voss isn't missing,” he said.
Claire stopped.
“What?”
“She has been alive.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
He slid a photograph toward her.
The image showed an older woman entering a grocery store.
Claire studied the face.
Older.
Hair gray.
But unmistakable.
It was the woman from the courthouse photograph.
Celia.
Claire looked up.
“Where did you get this?”
“Yesterday.”
“Who took it?”
“I did.”
“You've seen her?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Elliot hesitated.
“At the courthouse.”
Claire's father stared at him.
“Why didn't you tell us?”
“Because she asked me not to.”
Claire felt a strange anger.
“Why would she trust you?”
“She doesn't.”
Elliot reached into his coat.
He removed a folded piece of paper.
“She left this for you.”
Claire opened it.
There were only six words.
ASK WHAT HAPPENED TO THE FIRST TRUSTEE.
Claire looked at her father.
His face changed.
“Who was the first trustee?”
He answered slowly.
“My uncle.”
“What was his name?”
“Thomas Whitmore.”
Elliot shook his head.
“Not Thomas.”
Claire looked at him.
“The first trustee was someone else.”
“Who?”
Elliot's voice dropped.
“Your grandmother.”
Claire stared at him.
“My grandmother?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
“She resigned.”
“When?”
“Three days before she died.”
Claire felt a chill run through her.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“No,” Elliot said.
“It doesn't.”
He placed another document on the table.
A resignation letter.
The signature was Claire's grandmother's.
But the date was wrong.
It was dated two years after her reported death.
Click here to continue reading: PART 16: THE CHOICE CLAIRE HAD TO MAKE
The Seat My Husband Refused Me Became the Smallest Part of What I Was About to Discover
Part 15 of 25
