Page 10 of The Vows He Buried
The world tilted on its axis. The air rushed from my lungs. The evidence I held before—the prescription, the report—was damning. But this… this was the smoking gun. This was the motive. This was the proof of a cold, calculated, paid-for conspiracy. This was a receipt for the murder of my child.
I sank down onto the top step of the staircase, the papers fluttering in my trembling hand. The grief, the rage, it all coalesced into a single point of diamond-hard clarity.
They didn't just know. They didn't just let me grieve in silence while they harbored a secret.
They paid for it. They celebrated their anniversary, toasted their perfect union, on a foundation of lies built with blood money. My baby’s blood.
I looked up, my eyes finding Jasper’s, then my father’s. They saw the look on my face, the shift from wounded daughter to avenging angel. They didn’t need to see the papers to know what they contained. They saw it in the chilling stillness that had settled over me. The war had just been declared. Now, I had the weapon that would guarantee victory.
Chapter 8: The Paper
The sun rose on a world that felt fundamentally altered. I woke in my childhood bed, the soft blue of the walls a stark contrast to the storm raging within me. For a moment, the events of the previous night felt like a fever dream: the emerald dress, the public defiance, Lucian Thorne’s electrifying touch, the final, silent escape. But the dull, persistent throb in my wrapped ankle and the crisp white envelope lying on my nightstand were stark, physical proof. It was all real.
The envelope contained the receipt for my child’s life. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The price of a Vale heir. I hadn’t slept. I had spent the night staring at those papers, the numbers and names burning themselves onto the back of my eyelids. The grief was still there, a vast, cold ocean inside me. But the rage was a fire on its surface, turning the water to steam, forging something new and hard in its heat. There was no room for tears anymore. Tears were a luxury I couldn’t afford. This was a time for war.
After showering and dressing in a simple pair of black trousers and a cashmere sweater—my own clothes, not the Vale uniform—I made my way downstairs. I didn’t need to call a meeting. They were waiting for me in my father’s study.
My father, Richard Blake, stood by the fireplace, his face etched with a grim resolve I hadn’t seen since my mother’s death. Jasper was perched on the edge of the large mahogany desk, his usual easy-going demeanor replaced by a cold, still intensity that mirrored my own. Deedee, I had been told, was resting in a guestsuite, my father having assured her she was now under the full protection of the Blake family.
I walked in and placed the contents of the white envelope on the desk between them. I didn’t need to explain. They had seen my face last night. This was just the confirmation.
My father picked up the wire transfer receipt, his knuckles white. He read it, then read it again. A low, guttural sound escaped his throat, a sound of pure, paternal fury. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a pain so profound it nearly broke my composure. “Vannah… I am so sorry,” he choked out. “I should have seen it. I should have protected you.”
“You didn’t know,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “None of us did. They were very good at hiding it.”
Jasper took the papers next. He scanned them with the quick, analytical eye of a CEO dissecting a hostile takeover bid. His face, usually so expressive, became a mask of ice. When he looked up, his eyes were lethal.
“They won’t just lose a lawsuit, Savannah,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “They will lose everything. We will dismantle them. Brick by brick. We will salt the earth where Vale Global stood.” It wasn’t a promise. It was a statement of fact.
“That’s the plan,” I said. “First things first. I need a lawyer.”
“You have the best,” my father said, his voice regaining its strength. “The entire BlakeCore legal department is at your disposal.”
“Good,” I said. “I want to file for divorce today. And I want them to look into the prenup. Every line, every signature. I was young,I was in love, and Evelyn was… persuasive. I want to know if they exploited that.”
“Consider it done,” Jasper said, already pulling out his phone. “I’ll have our head of counsel, Mark Jennings, clear his schedule. He’ll meet us whenever you’re ready.”
“Now,” I said. “I’m ready now.”
While Jasper made the call, I took out the burner phone and dialed the only number in its contacts. It rang twice before she picked up.
“Savannah?” Harper Lin’s voice was a rush of anxiety and relief.
“I’m out, Harper,” I said, my voice cracking for the first time. Hearing her voice, the one constant, loyal friend through all of this, pierced my armor.
“Oh, thank God,” she breathed. “I saw the photo you sent Jasper. I’ve been waiting. Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m at my father’s house. I’m safe.” I took a deep breath, steadying myself. “Harper… it’s so much worse than we thought.” I told her everything. About Sienna and Maddox. About the “vitamins.” About the wire transfer. I told her about the eight figures sitting in the ghost account she had so brilliantly managed.
There was a long, heavy silence on the other end of the line. When she finally spoke, her voice was shaking with rage. “That woman… thatmonster. I will help you bury her, Vannah. I will help you dance on her grave. Whatever you need. The company, the money, it’s all yours. It always has been.”
“I know,” I whispered. “Thank you, Harper. For everything. For believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”
“Always,” she said fiercely. “Now, what’s the first move?”
“Divorce,” I said. “Today. And we’re contesting the prenup. After that… we relaunch Lynelle. Bigger, louder, and more powerful than ever before.”
“I’ve been waiting for this day for three years,” Harper said, a new energy in her voice. “The business is solid, the supply chains are in place. We just need to flip the switch and put your name back on the door. Consider it done.” She paused. “There’s one more thing, Vannah. A legal angle. If we can prove you signed that prenup under duress, or that they deliberately misled you about its terms… it could be invalidated entirely.”
