Chapter 5 - The Shadow of Arthur
The father, Thomas, stood watch, his eyes scanning the edges of the piazza. He knew Arthur was not a man who gave up easily.
Arthur was a retired judge, a man of immense influence and wealth.
He had built his entire reputation on being a man of absolute law and order.
If this story came out, his legacy would be destroyed.
Suddenly, Thomas saw a black sedan pull up near the church.
The door opened, and a driver in a suit stepped out, holding the door.
Arthur emerged from the backseat.
He did not look like a man who had run away anymore.
He looked cold, calculated, and determined.
He walked toward them, his cane tapping rhythmically against the stone steps.
The three little girls whimpered and hid behind Clara’s worn coat.
“Beatrice,” Arthur said, his voice smooth and commanding. “It is time to go.”
Beatrice stood up, her grief transforming into pure, unadulterated rage.
“How could you?” she screamed, her voice echoing off the church walls.
“She was your daughter! Elena was your daughter, and Clara was the woman you loved!”
Arthur did not flinch.
He looked at Clara with a cold, detached expression.
“I did what was necessary to protect my family’s future,” Arthur said quietly.
“Clara was a peasant. She had no means to raise a child.”
“Elena lived a life of privilege because of my choice. She went to the best schools. She married well.”
“And you, Beatrice, benefited from that choice as well.”
Clara stood up, her old bones aching, but her posture straight.
May you like
“You stole my baby,” Clara whispered, her voice shaking with a mother’s wrath.
“You let me rot on the streets while you played God.”
