Ellen’s POV

Calmly seated at my desk, I scrolled through the evidence released on Liz and Gabriel: video clips, pictures, and recordings. The sheer volume was impossible for just anyone to obtain. If Kamille had taken these and given them to Belle before dying, why the delay in release? Belle was Kamille's only known friend at the time of her death, but she didn't seem capable of this. Except she had an alibi.

I stood and paced anxiously. I needed surveillance on Belle. Returning to my desk, I called Mr. Finley.

"Ms. Ellen," he answered.

"Mr. Finley, I need you to put someone under surveillance," I said.

"Who is that, Ms. Ellen?"

"I'll send you her address, place of employment, and personal details."

"Understood, Ms. Ellen. I'll get it processed immediately."

"Good. I want every detail—where she shops, dines, who she visits, everyone in her life. Everything, Mr. Finley."

"Rest assured, Ms. Ellen, we'll monitor her every move," Finley assured me.

Relief washed over me. "Good. I need to understand her actions and whether she's behind this."

"We'll keep you updated," he promised before we hung up.

Exhaling deeply, I sat back down. A sharp knock startled me. "Who is it?" I called irritably.

"Ms. Ellen, your father requests your presence in his study," a household staff member announced.

Frowning, I wondered what could be so urgent. Sighing, I closed my laptop and went to my father's study, curiosity piqued.

Approaching his study, I overheard an agitated phone conversation:

"How could this happen under your watch?" he bellowed. "I pay you for discretion and order, without a trace back to us. How did all those men die with no trace?"

I paused, my heart pounding. My mind raced, trying to understand. He ended the call with a curse.

I knocked three times and entered. "Good afternoon, Dad."

"Nothing good about this afternoon, Ellen. We've been compromised again!" he snapped.

My heart sank. "Dad, please calm down," I urged. "What's going on? I overheard your call. Which men? What happened?"

His expression darkened. "All the men tailing Zeke's children are dead. Every single one," he revealed. "Zeke's security was occupied with the children at the time of their deaths. No trace, no leads, nothing. A dead end."

I was stunned. "Who could have done this?"

He shook his head. "That's what I want to know." He added grimly, "But we need to reassess. We'll have to back off the children and find another approach."

His next words surprised me. "You have to get pregnant, Ellen. And I don't care who the father is."

I blinked, understanding his meaning. "But Dad, Zeke won't accept any child. He'll try to confirm paternity."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Ellen," he said. "The important thing is to get back with him. Remember you mentioned going to Zeke's house with him? That's our opportunity. Once you're pregnant, we'll deal with the paternity test later."

"Okay, Dad." This was dangerous, but there was no turning back. "I'll call Becky."

"Do it. We can't back down."

Leaving his study, I felt the urgency pressing down on me. I called Becky. I trusted my father's plan. The thought of having an unwanted child was devastating.

After several rings, she answered calmly. "Hello, El. How are you?"

"Becky, it's time," I said urgently. There was no time for pleasantries.

"Time for what?" Concern tinged her voice.

"I need sperm, now," I said firmly.

Becky hesitated. "Ellen, Zeke has stopped donating," she said uncertainly.

I cut her off. "Not Zeke's. Any good donor," I insisted.

Her concern grew. "Ellen, what the hell are you doing?"

"Don't ask questions, just do it, okay?" I snapped.

After a pause, she relented. "Okay, but be careful," she warned.

"That's my problem, Becky," I retorted.

"Okay, El. I'll do it. When are you coming?"

"I'll text you," I replied, ending the call before I changed my mind.

"Alright. Take care."

Returning to my father's study, I found him staring at Grandma Monica's picture.

"Are you okay, Dad?" I asked.

He didn't look it.