1007 He Buried His Wife and Tried to Abandon Their Daughters at the Grave, But His Twelve-Year-Old Stepdaughter Was Holding the One Key That Would Destroy Him

"Don't touch that drive, Dr. Hayes."

The voice echoed off the high vaulted ceilings of the archive room. I spun around to see Arthur striding down the aisle between the towering bookshelves. His tailored suit was slightly rumpled, his hair out of place—gone was the smug, untouchable confidence from the cemetery. He looked desperate, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

Behind him walked Marcus Vance, flanked by the same tall man in the trench coat.

"Arthur," Lucy whispered, shrinking back against the wooden bench beside Rachel. April buried her face in my coat.

I stepped in front of the girls, placing myself between them and Arthur. "You have a lot of nerve showing your face here," I said, my voice shaking with restrained fury.

Arthur ignored me, his gaze locked entirely on Dr. Hayes and the flash drive sitting on the oak table.

"Evelyn, you don't know what you're doing," Arthur said, holding his hands out defensively as he approached. "Rose was unstable. She imagined half of these things. If you upload those files, you're destroying innocent people's lives based on the delusions of a sick woman."

"Don't you dare speak her name," I snarled, taking a step toward him.

Vance stepped up beside Arthur, his expression cold and devoid of remorse. "Charles, let's be rational. You're an old man trying to raise three children on a shop teacher's pension. You think you can fight a multi-million-dollar corporation in federal court? You'll lose everything before the week is out. The house, the custody of the girls, your dignity."

"And what?" I challenged, my fists clenched at my sides. "You'll buy them off? Just like you bought Arthur?"

"We offer a settlement," Vance said smoothly, stepping closer. "Full financial provision for the girls' education. A trust fund in their names. In exchange, the drive stays here, uncopied, and you walk away. No scandal, no ruined reputations, no messy court battles that will drag these children through the mud."

Silence settled over the archive room. It was an astonishingly pragmatic offer—clean, quiet, and designed to protect the girls from the very destruction Arthur had unleashed.

I looked back at Lucy.

She was staring up at me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, but her expression held no fear. She didn't look at the promise of a trust fund or the threat of a ruined future. She looked at her mother's journal resting on the table.

"Grandpa," Lucy whispered, her voice steady and clear in the quiet room. "Mom didn't want a settlement. She wanted the truth."

I turned back to Vance and Arthur, feeling a strange, profound calm wash over me.

"Keep your money," I said.