Chapter 78: Henry’s Anger: Confronting Beatrice
Henry stepped into the grand entryway of his house.
It was exhausting, seeing his daughter in the arms of his biggest enemy.
He loosened his tie as his eyes swept the room, pausing briefly on Vanesa lounging on the sofa.
She looked up at him, a faint, smug grin on her lips.
There was sothing different about her face—sothing sharper in her features.
Henry’s eyes lingered for a mont, noting the subtle change.
Her nose had a new, almost unfamiliar shape. It was slight but noticeable.
"Good evening, Daddy," Vanesa said, trying to appear as sweet as possible.
Henry didn’t respond.
He gave a curt nod and continued walking, his mind already preoccupied as he made his way to his office.
In the office, he felt the safest. It was his escape zone.
The heavy door closed behind him with a satisfying click.
Henry crossed the room, tossing his jacket onto the chair before sinking into the leather seat behind his desk.
The events of the past few days had been exhausting.
Between Eira, Marion, Callian’s antics, and the swirling dia frenzy, Henry felt his control slipping.
He opened his laptop, reviewing the numbers.
Surprisingly, so of the company’s stocks had gone up.
The drama surrounding Callian seed to have attracted attention—not all of it bad.
Henry made a ntal note to use that to his advantage at the next board eting.
He needed to plan, to strategize. But first, there was sothing else he needed to do.
He reached into the drawer, pulling out Eira’s battered diary.
The leather cover was worn, the pages creased and filled with her young, scrawling handwriting.
Henry leaned back in his chair, flipping to where he’d left off.
The words were innocent at first, describing school days and longing for her parents. Then his stomach tightened as he read further.
-Today, Mr. Colton told to stay after class. He said he wanted to help with my reading. I thought he was being nice at first, but then he started asking weird questions about myself. I told him I didn’t understand, and he got upset.-
Henry’s grip on the diary tightened.
-He kept telling to stop crying. He said if I didn’t listen to him, he’d tell the other kids stories about .-
Henry continued reading.
-He said no one would like if I didn’t behave. I wanted to leave, but he blocked the door. I was so scared. Then the teacher touched between my legs where I usually pee from. I saw a weird grin form on his face when he did that.-
Henry’s jaw was ready to co out as he read the next part.
-He pressed my head against sothing hard between his legs. He told I will like it when he connects it. I don’t know what he ant. I rember crying a lot.-
Henry’s chest filled with a heavy mountain, while reading how Eira described sobbing quietly, too afraid to move, until the bell rang and she finally managed to run out of the room.
He slamd the diary shut. "This bastard!"
A knock interrupted his thoughts, and his assistant’s voice ca through the door. "Sir?"
"Co in," Henry barked.
The assistant stepped inside, holding a tablet. "The board eting has been confird for Friday morning. Also, I’ve gathered so information on the teacher ntioned in your request—Mr. Colton."
Henry straightened. "Go on."
The assistant hesitated. "He’s recently passed away."
Henry narrowed his eyes. "How?"
"That’s where it gets strange," the assistant said.
"Apparently, vandals also broke into the funeral ho. They vandalised the casket and... his corpse."
Henry leaned forward. "The body?"
"Yes. It was damaged beyond recognition... also, a woman’s lipstick was found, and words like: ’rapist, pervert, abuser’ were seen to be written."
Henry’s brows furrowed. "Find out more. Cause of death, who was involved in the vandalism—everything."
The assistant nodded quickly. "Understood, sir."
"Leave," Henry said, waving him off.
As the door closed, Henry opened the diary again.
-I feel so dirty. I keep scrubbing my hands, but it doesn’t go away. I wanted to take a shower, but Marion is in the hospital, and Konrad and Arnold won’t let in the bathroom. They said it’s their turn, then locked the door. I can hear them laughing and joking about .-
Henry’s hands shook as he read the next part.
-They told not to eat anything, but I’m so hungry. My stomach hurts. I just want Marion to co ho. I don’t want to tell her because she’s already so tired. It’s not their fault. I’m a nobody anyway. Maybe one day Daddy will co and take away. I just have to wait a little longer.-
Henry closed the diary again, pressing his hands flat against the desk.
His chest tightened, guilt crushed him like a hot tal being poured onto his skin, and then hamred all together, destroying him at once.
And again, tears pricked at his eyes. He had failed her.
Over and over, he had failed her.
The sound of heels clicking snapped Henry out of his thoughts.
The door opened without a knock, and Beatrice stepped inside, her usual air of elegance wrapped around her like a shield.
"Henry," she said in a brisk tone. "You should join us for dinner. Vanesa is waiting."
"I’m busy," he replied curtly, not looking up.
Beatrice moved closer, her eyebrows lifted as she spotted the diary on the desk. "What’s that?"
Henry casually slid the diary into the drawer and locked it with a click.
Beatrice crossed her arms. "What are you hiding?"
Henry leaned back in his chair, reaching for a cigar from the box on his desk.
He lit it slowly, taking a long drag before exhaling a thin trail of smoke.
"Sit down," he said commandingly.
Beatrice raised an eyebrow even higher but complied, lowering herself gracefully into the chair across from him.
Henry studied her for a mont. "Your lipstick is out of place," he said finally.
Beatrice stiffened, her hand instinctively went to her mouth.
She wiped at the corner of her lips with a tissue from her pocket.
Henry smiled faintly, but his eyes were cold. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.
"You will answer one question, my beautiful wife," he said calmly, as if he was rehearsing this over and over again.
Beatrice raised her chin. "Answer what?"
Henry’s smile widened ever so slightly.
"What did you do to Liam?"
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