Chapter 4 - The Evanston Clue
Evanston was a maze of quiet brick houses, university students rushing through slush, and narrow side streets buried under drifts of lake snow. Adrian didn’t use his security team for this part. He walked door-to-door along Dempster Street, showing Ariana’s photograph to local shopkeepers, librarians, and pharmacists.
Most shook their heads. Some slammed doors in his face when they recognized the billionaire face splashed across Chicago business magazines.
By midnight, his shoes were soaked through, his face numb from the wind. He found himself standing outside a small, independent bookstore called The Gilded Page, its windows glowing with warm amber light. A hand-painted sign on the door read: Closed, but open to those who need shelter.
Adrian didn’t knock. He pushed the door open, setting off a soft chime.
An elderly man with silver hair and wire-rimmed glasses looked up from behind the counter, surrounded by towering stacks of vintage paperbacks. “We’re closed, son. Unless you’re looking for philosophy, you’re in the wrong place.”
“I’m looking for my wife,” Adrian said, his voice raw from the cold. He pulled out the photograph of Ariana outside the courthouse. “Her name is Ariana Vale.”
The old man’s glasses slid down his nose. He looked at the photograph, then up at Adrian’s haggard face, taking in the expensive coat now ruined by snow and sweat.
“So you’re the dragon who kept her locked in a glass tower,” the old man said softly. His name tag read Arthur.
Adrian swallowed hard. “Did she come here?”
“Three nights ago, she walked in here half-frozen, holding a suitcase in one hand and a baby bracelet in the other,” Arthur said, leaning against the counter. “She didn’t ask for money. She didn’t ask for protection. She asked for a quiet place to sit while she figured out how to protect an unborn child from a man who loved his empire more than his wife.”
Adrian’s knees felt weak. He gripped the edge of the wooden counter. “Unborn? No... when she left, she had this.” He reached into his pocket and placed the tiny gold bracelet with the engraved rose on the counter.
Arthur looked down at the bracelet, and a sad smile touched his lips. “Ah. She must have dropped it when she was packing her hurried suitcase. She told me she was terrified that if she stayed another day, the toxic air of your mansion would poison her baby before it even drew its first breath. But she didn't lose the baby, Mr. Vale. She gave birth two months premature at a small community clinic in Racine, Wisconsin, exactly eight months after she left.”
May you like
Adrian’s breath caught in his throat. The world tilted violently. “Eight... months? But that means—”
“That she was already pregnant the night you handed her divorce papers and welcomed Vanessa Harrington into your home,” Arthur finished for him.
