Ellen’s POV

“Go to your room, freshen up, and meet me in my study when you’re done,” Father said, rising from his chair.

I nodded and hurried to my room. I took a quick shower and put on comfortable shorts and a cropped blouse. As I was about to leave, my phone rang—it was Becky.

“Finally,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Someone with the courtesy to return my calls.” I went back into my room to answer.

“Sorry, El. I was in the ER when you called. How are you?” Becky asked, her voice tired.

“Chaotic as usual,” I replied. “I need to ask you something, but I have to hurry.”

“What is it?”

“Remember Kamille, that nerd we knew in college? I heard she’s a doctor now. Do you remember her full name, where she works, anything?” I asked quickly.

“That’s Belle. She’s engaged and works at her fiancé’s hospital. She’s not the troublemaking type,” Belle yawned. “Sorry, El.”

“Get some rest. Text me the details tomorrow,” I said.

“Okay. Talk later,” Becky replied, and we hung up.

I needed to follow every lead. No stone could be left unturned.

I went to my father’s study and found him at the door. He gestured for us to enter, and I followed obediently. I sat in a chair opposite him.

After a moment, I asked, “How is Mother? I haven’t seen her.” My voice held a worried tone.

His expression softened. “She’s tired and asleep,” he replied gently.

I nodded. “Okay.”

“We’ll have dinner together when she wakes,” he added.

Poor Mom, I thought. This must be so hard on her. I can’t wait for this chaos to end.

“Are you worried something bad has happened?” he asked, his voice soft, but his face remained impassive.

I nodded slowly. “Maybe.”

He furrowed his brow. “Your Aunt Fiona was like that too,” he began.

“How?” I asked, curious. She sounded like a fascinating person, unlike what my parents believed.

He sighed, his gaze distant. “She always worried, always calling, always visiting, always acting like she cared. But when her secret was exposed, her rebellious side came out.”

Intrigued, I leaned closer. “What secret?”

“Hold on, Ellen. Do you want to know what your Grandma Monica did to her for being rebellious?” His anger and hatred were palpable. I nodded eagerly.

I wanted to know.

But a knock interrupted us. A maid entered.

“What do you want?” Father asked coldly, without looking up.

“The Madam asked if you’re ready for dinner,” the maid stammered, head bowed.

“We’ll be there,” he replied, then turned back to me with a regretful look. “We’ll talk later, Ellen.”

“But Father! You were talking about Aunt Fiona…” I pleaded.

He sighed and continued. “Fiona was meant to be the heir to the Manor businesses,” he said. “The properties and shares were to be divided among the remaining children, in-laws, and grandchildren.”

Just tell me the secret!

“Then what happened? What was her secret?” I pressed.

“She made the wrong move, played the wrong game. That was her mistake, and it cost her life,” he said, shutting down his computer and looking at me intently. “That’s why we won’t make the same mistake.”

What was Aunt Fiona's secret, and what does it have to do with the Manor family? I would have to wait for answers.

“Okay, Father. What about the kids?” I asked, exhaling heavily.

“Give me all the information you have,” he instructed.

“They’re at Zeke’s penthouse,” I began. “I suspect one might be hospitalized. They attend a private school owned by Mr. Christopher George.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “What grade are they in?”

“Kindergarten,” I replied, unease growing. We needed to act quickly.

A flicker of anticipation rose in me. Would he send them out of London? Or to some secluded estate? It didn’t really matter to me; I just wanted them gone.

Before I could ask, he picked up his phone and dialed a number. It had to be Mr. Finley. His voice hardened; he was about to unleash hell on Ezekiel Reid’s children! I hoped the plan went smoothly.

He hung up and looked at me. “By tomorrow, on their way back from school, it will be done.”

The door opened, and my mother entered, smiling gently. She was beautiful, even with the streaks of gray in her brown hair. Since Liz’s capture and Gabriel’s arrest, she'd been ill, suffering from migraines and high blood pressure.

“Mother,” I said.

“Dinner’s been ready,” she announced.

Father nodded, softening as he took her hand. “Thank you, dear. We were just coming down.”

“Yes, Mother,” I agreed. Mother started to leave, then coughed violently. Father rushed to her side, and I got water from the fridge.

Once she recovered, Father escorted her downstairs. “Shall we?” he asked warmly, guiding her.

I followed, wishing they would be like this more often.