Chapter 13 - WHAT CHADWORTH SAW AFTER HE WOKE
-13
Chadworth woke to the sound of a heart monitor.
For one terrifying second, he believed he was inside St. Catherine’s.
He ripped the IV line from his arm.
A nurse rushed toward him.
“Mr. Prescott!”
“Where are my daughters?”
“They’re safe.”
“Where?”
The door opened.
Lorelai and Gemma ran inside.
Chadworth caught them both.
Only then did he notice Rosamund standing behind them.
Her eyes were swollen.
Daniel sat in a wheelchair beside her.
Alive.
Edmund stood near the window.
Marcus near the door.
For once, every person Chadworth needed was in the same room.
No one separated.
No one whispering in another corridor.
No one controlling the story alone.
“What happened?” Chadworth asked.
Marcus answered.
“Federal agents reached Haven House three minutes after you went down.”
“Claire?”
“Escaped through an old service shaft.”
“Sabina?”
Rosamund looked at Daniel.
They knew something.
“What?”
Daniel spoke.
“They found her.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Inside the building.”
Chadworth exhaled.
“What condition?”
“Dehydrated. Bruised. Terrified.”
“Did she talk?”
“For eleven hours.”
Edmund held up a thick folder.
“Everything she knows.”
Chadworth looked at the girls.
“Not here.”
Rosamund understood.
She took them for food.
Lorelai paused at the door.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t believe people just because they sound confident.”
Chadworth almost laughed.
“I won’t.”
After the door closed, Edmund placed documents across the hospital table.
“Federal investigators raided three Voss facilities.”
“And?”
“Twenty-seven illegally detained adults.”
Chadworth stared.
“Twenty-seven?”
“Six were people publicly believed to be living abroad. Four had been declared incompetent. Three were reported dead.”
“Reported dead?”
“Fake death certificates.”
The scale was beyond anything Chadworth had imagined.
“And the children?”
“Haven House records indicate at least forty-three manipulated custody cases over twelve years.”
Chadworth closed his eyes.
“Claire?”
“No confirmed location.”
“Voss?”
“Arrested.”
“Mercer?”
“The retired detective?”
“Yes.”
“Also arrested.”
“Who else?”
Edmund looked grim.
“Two judges. Four attorneys. Three private trustees. Several doctors.”
“And Prescott Holdings?”
Silence.
That was the answer he feared.
“How many?”
Edmund handed him a list.
Eight names.
Senior executives.
Foundation staff.
Former legal counsel.
At the bottom was Edmund Carlisle.
Chadworth stared.
Edmund said nothing.
“Why is your name here?”
“Because Daniel’s system recorded payments through my credentials.”
“Were they yours?”
“No.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Not completely.”
Marcus watched him carefully.
Edmund continued.
“Claire worked inside my office for six years. She had access.”
“You’re blaming her.”
“I’m telling you what happened.”
“That isn’t proof.”
“No.”
Chadworth appreciated the answer.
For the first time, Edmund was not asking for trust.
He was asking for investigation.
“What are you going to do?”
“Step down.”
“From the company?”
“Yes.”
“Immediately?”
“I already submitted it.”
Chadworth stared.
“You spent fifteen years building Prescott Holdings with me.”
“And if I stay while investigators determine whether my office helped destroy families, every employee will think loyalty matters more than truth.”
Chadworth looked at him for a long time.
“Thank you.”
Edmund nodded.
Daniel spoke.
“There’s something else.”
Chadworth turned.
“My system had a primary administrator.”
“Claire?”
“No.”
“Voss?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Daniel looked frightened.
“I never knew.”
Chadworth’s stomach tightened.
“There’s another person.”
“Yes.”
“Above Claire?”
“Maybe.”
“What was the administrator name?”
“ARGENT.”
“Meaning?”
“No idea.”
Marcus frowned.
“Could be an alias.”
Daniel nodded.
“ARGENT authorized the highest-level cases.”
“How many?”
“Seven.”
“Was Prescott one?”
“Yes.”
“Evelyn?”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
Daniel listed six families.
Chadworth recognized one surname immediately.
Carlisle.
Everyone looked at Edmund.
His face drained.
“My family?”
Daniel nodded.
Edmund’s voice became quiet.
“What case?”
“I don’t know.”
“My father died after a dementia diagnosis.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“I know.”
Edmund stepped backward.
“No.”
“He was a Voss patient.”
“No.”
“And Claire joined your company eight months after his death.”
Edmund sat down.
Chadworth watched twenty years of certainty disappear from his friend’s face.
“You weren’t helping them,” Chadworth said.
Edmund looked at him.
“They used you too.”
For the first time, Chadworth understood the true genius of Claire’s network.
Even some conspirators did not know they were conspirators.
A forged authorization here.
A manipulated assistant there.
A frightened doctor.
A paid trustee.
A compromised security officer.
Everyone saw only one room.
Only Claire—or whoever ARGENT was—saw the entire house.
Marcus placed a tablet beside Chadworth.
“There’s one more thing.”
Security footage.
From Haven House.
Lorelai inside the glass room.
She pulled the fire alarm.
But before doing so, she looked directly at the camera.
Then held something toward it.
A piece of paper.
Chadworth zoomed in.
Three words:
I KNOW YOU.
“What does that mean?” Chadworth asked.
Marcus shook his head.
“I asked her.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she recognized the person who spoke to Claire through the speaker before you arrived.”
Chadworth’s heartbeat changed.
“What person?”
Marcus played another clip.
Claire stood alone with Gemma.
A speaker activated.
A distorted voice spoke.
“Proceed with the younger child.”
Claire replied:
“You promised Sabrina would handle guardianship.”
The voice answered:
“Sabrina is compromised.”
Claire looked angry.
“You keep changing the plan.”
The voice said:
“I built the plan.”
Chadworth listened again.
Distorted.
Electronic.
Impossible to recognize.
Yet Lorelai had written:
I KNOW YOU.
“Who did she think it was?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Someone she hears often.”
“Who?”
“She wouldn’t tell me until you woke up.”
Chadworth pressed the call button.
Rosamund returned with the girls.
Lorelai climbed onto the chair beside his bed.
He held her hand.
“At Haven House, you heard someone talking to Claire.”
She nodded.
“You recognized the voice.”
“I think so.”
“Who?”
Lorelai looked around the room.
At Marcus.
Edmund.
Rosamund.
Daniel.
Then back at her father.
“It was Grandpa.”
No one spoke.
Chadworth stared.
“Your grandfather is dead.”
“I know.”
Arthur Prescott had died eight years earlier.
Lorelai had been three.
She remembered him mostly from family videos.
Chadworth forced a smile.
“Maybe it sounded like him.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because Sabina showed us old videos.”
“Why?”
“She said Grandpa was the reason our family was cursed.”
Chadworth felt cold.
Lorelai continued.
“The voice used the same words.”
“What words?”
She looked at him.
“Power belongs to the person willing to keep it.”
Chadworth stopped breathing.
Arthur Prescott had said that constantly.
At dinners.
In boardrooms.
During interviews.
It could be imitation.
A recording.
Someone manipulating them.
Then Daniel whispered:
“ARGENT.”
Chadworth looked at him.
“What?”
“Argent means silver.”
Edmund slowly raised his eyes.
May you like
Arthur Prescott had been known throughout the business press by one nickname.
The Silver King.
