Chapter 2 - THE MATRIARCH’S MONSTER
Hook: “She traded her grandchildren for a corporate empire—and she’d do it again.”Richard drove back to the estate like a man possessed, his tires screaming against the asphalt. He didn't park; he left his sports car idling right at the front steps and slammed through the heavy oak doors of the mansion.
The grand foyer was dead silent, save for the rhythmic tapping of a cane.
Sitting in the high-backed velvet armchair in the parlor was Evelyn Hail. At seventy, she was still the most formidable woman in the city. Her silver hair was perfectly coiffed, her Chanel suit immaculate. She was sipping tea, completely unbothered.
"You look frantic, Richard," Evelyn said smoothly, not even looking up. "A man of your stature should never let the staff see him sweat. It signals weakness."
Richard walked into the parlor, his shadow falling over her. "Where are they?"
Evelyn set her teacup down with a soft clink. "If you are referring to those feral children your little maid hid in the dining room, I’ve already had security remove them. They are being returned to a proper facility."
"They are my sons, mother," Richard said, his voice dangerously calm, though his fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. "I opened the coffins. There is nothing but bricks in Oakridge Cemetery."
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed slightly, the only sign that she had been caught off guard. Then, she sighed, a cold, dismissive sound. "Then you know. Good. It saves me the trouble of continuing the charade."
"Why?" The word was a bleeding wound. "Why would you do this to me? To Clara? She died thinking her children were dead!"
"Clara died because she was weak!" Evelyn snapped, her aristocratic facade dropping to reveal something vicious. "Four children at once, Richard? A quadruple birth? Do you have any idea what that does to a family empire? The press would have turned us into a freak show. The stock price of Hail International would have plummeted on rumors of genetic instability. And worse—the inheritance."
She stood up, leaning heavily on her cane, stepping close to her son. "Your father’s will was specific. The majority share of the company goes to the sole male heir of your generation. If you had one son, the power remained concentrated. If you had four, the empire would be fractured into four competing factions. The board would have torn us apart. I did what was necessary to protect the bloodline's power."
"By faking their deaths? By locking them in a shack on the edge of the woods?" Richard’s voice shook with pure rage.
"They were cared for!" Evelyn hissed. "They had doctors. They had a roof. I intended to select the strongest, most capable one when they turned ten, bring him out as an 'adopted orphan,' and groom him to be your heir. The other three would have been taken care of financially, far away from this city."
Richard looked at his mother as if she were a monster. "You are sick."
"I am pragmatic," Evelyn corrected coldly. "And you will keep your mouth shut, Richard. If this scandal gets out, Hail International loses its multi-billion-dollar government defense contracts. We will be ruined. Your wealth, your status, your towers—gone overnight. You will accept that those boys are orphans, we will send them away permanently, and you will continue to build this empire."
"And if I refuse?"
Evelyn smiled a venomous, triumphant smile. "You won't refuse. Because if you try to claim those boys now, the public will find out you 'neglected' them for five years while they lived in poverty on your own estate. The courts will deem you unfit. And I have enough medical records from your 'depression' after Clara’s death to have you committed to a psychiatric facility before the sun rises tomorrow."
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She tapped her cane once. Two large, armed security guards Richard didn't recognize stepped out from the shadows of the hallway.
"Now," Evelyn said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Where is the maid?"
