Page 36 of Enduring Promise

And despite his best efforts to protect Hillary, he couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling that letting her go would be the hardest thing he’d ever done.

CHAPTER 35

The warm glow of the house felt surreal as Hillary stepped through the doors, her wet sneakers squeaking softly against the marble floor. The grand sitting room, once the scene of polished elegance and sparkling laughter, was now a tableau of disheveled party guests and quiet tension. Mud-smeared shoes scuffed the floors, wrinkled gowns bore evidence of frantic searching, and once-perfectly styled hair hung limp and undone. The evening had shifted from glamour to survival in a way no one could have predicted.

Claire sat on one of the sofas, pale and trembling, as two EMTs worked carefully to clean the cut on her forehead. She flinched when the antiseptic touched her skin, her hazel eyes darting nervously to the doorway every few seconds. The room buzzed with subdued whispers, people speaking in hushed tones as they watched the scene unfold.

Hillary approached, taking a seat on the armrest of the sofa beside Claire. She placed a gentle hand on Claire’s trembling fingers. “How are you holding up?” she asked softly, her voice low enough that only Claire could hear.

“I’m fine,” Claire said automatically, though the strain in her voice betrayed her. Her gaze shifted to the doorway, where twouniformed officers stood speaking to a small group of people who had just come in from the woods.

“Any sign of him?” Claire called out, her voice breaking slightly.

One of the officers, a middle-aged man with a gruff demeanor, turned toward her and shook his head. “No sign of him yet, ma’am,” he said. “We’re mobilizing additional officers, but that won’t happen until morning. For now, we’ll have a few men stationed around the house to keep everyone safe.”

Claire’s shoulders sagged, and she closed her eyes, leaning back against the cushions. The EMTs exchanged a glance before stepping back, satisfied with their work. “The wound isn’t deep,” one of them said. “Just keep it clean, and you’ll be fine.”

Madame Fournier’s presence commanded attention as she stepped into the room, her poise intact despite the chaos around her. Her gown was still pristine, though her expression bore the weight of the evening’s events. She addressed the gathered guests with an apologetic smile. “Ladies and gentlemen, I must apologize for the unfortunate circumstances. I’m afraid there aren’t enough accommodations for everyone to be comfortable and up to their normal standards, but we will do our best to make room for everyone.”

A man near the fireplace, his once-crisp tuxedo now crumpled and mud-streaked, laughed lightly. “This is the most exciting event I’ve been to in years,” he said, earning a few chuckles from the crowd.

A woman in a cocktail dress, her hair falling out of its updo, added, “Maybe we won’t need comfortable places to sleep. We’ll just stay awake and enjoy each other’s company. This was so exciting.”

Madame Fournier inclined her head graciously. “Your good humor is much appreciated,” she said. Turning to the staff who hovered nearby, she continued, “Please ensure that asmany sleeping arrangements as possible are made, and continue serving refreshments to the guests.”

As the staff moved to carry out her orders, Madame Fournier crossed the room to a detective standing by the door. With a deliberate movement, she handed him her phone. “Detective,” she said, her voice calm but firm, “on this device, you’ll find a recording of Dr. Hale incriminating himself in the crime of arson, among many other things. I have already sent copies to my legal advisors, but I trust you will find this useful.”

The detective nodded, taking the phone with a grateful expression. “This will help immensely, Madame Fournier. Thank you.”

The hum of conversation in the room grew louder as the party guests buzzed with speculation about Michael. People huddled in small groups, their voices rising and falling with excitement as they exchanged theories about his whereabouts and what might happen to him.

Hillary ignored the chatter, focusing instead on Claire. She slid down from the armrest and sat beside her. “We need to talk,” she said, her tone purposeful.

Claire opened her eyes, exhaustion written across her features. “About what?”

“Your legal defense,” Hillary replied. “You need to start preparing now for what’s coming next.”

Claire’s gaze dropped to her lap, her fingers twisting together. “What if they never catch him?” she whispered. “Michael always gets away with everything. He’s slippery like that. Maybe... maybe he had a plan for this too.”

Hillary’s voice grew louder, forcing her to meet her gaze. “He doesn’t have a plan for you,” she said firmly. “No one does.”

Claire blinked, her expression flickering between doubt and hope. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because you’re stronger than he thinks you are,” Hillary said. “And because people like him always overreach. He made a mistake tonight, Claire. A big one. And we’re going to make sure he pays for it.”

The conviction in Hillary’s voice seemed to steady Claire, who exhaled slowly and nodded. “Okay,” she said quietly. “What do we do?”

“First, you rest,” Hillary said. “You’ve been through enough tonight. But tomorrow, we start building your case. Michael’s going to try to twist this however he can, and we need to be ready for that. I’ll help you every step of the way.”

Claire nodded again. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Hillary leaned back slightly, giving Claire the space she needed while keeping a watchful eye on her. As the energy in the room ebbed and flowed, Hillary couldn’t help but glance toward the door, where the officers stood watch. The thought of Michael still out there, somewhere in the dark, sent a chill down her spine.

CHAPTER 36

Russ shifted uncomfortably on the plush couch, the opulence of the grand sitting room somehow making him feel more restless. Across the room, Claire was curled up on another sofa, her breathing slow and steady as she slept. She’d barely stirred since Hillary had helped her settle down, the strain of the night catching up with her at last.

The house was quiet now. Most of the guests had found somewhere to sleep—whether on hastily arranged cots, chaise lounges, or tucked into whatever corner they could find. The earlier buzz of speculation and conversation had faded, replaced by an uneasy silence, broken only by the occasional hum of the police radios near the front door.

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