The Bride-to-Be Threw a Little Girl’s Baby Shoes in the Trash—Then the Matriarch Recognized Them

CHAPTER 17 — THE PIER AT MIDNIGHT

The old shipping pier was a rotting wooden skeleton stretching out into the dark, churning waters of the Atlantic. The storm had left behind a thick, low-hanging fog that swallowed the beams of the distant lighthouse.

A single black luxury sedan sat at the end of the pier, its headlights cutting through the mist.

Eleanor walked down the wooden planks alone, her long coat billowing in the wind. In her right hand, she held the small white box. In her left, she held the hand of a small figure wrapped in a oversized dark blanket.

Three men in impeccable tailored suits stepped out of the sedan. The man in the center was middle-aged, with silver hair and a sharp, aristocratic face that belonged on the cover of a business magazine.

"Mrs. Whitmore," the man said, his voice matching the synthesized tone from the phone, now unmasked. "You are precisely on time. I expect nothing less from old money."

"Julian Vance," Eleanor said, her voice dripping with disgust. "The CEO of Vanguard Logistics. I should have known Arthur didn't have the intellect to coordinate a global smuggling ring on his own."

Julian smiled, a cold, empty gesture. "Arthur was a blunt instrument. Useful for a time, but he grew sloppy. His obsession with Victoria Lane was his undoing. Now, let’s talk about the hard drive. Have the child step forward and place her palm on the scanner."

He held out a small, metallic digital pad.

"Why did Claire use her daughter’s biometrics, Julian?" Eleanor asked, staying perfectly still. "Because she knew that if she used her own, you would just kill her and take her fingers. She knew that as long as the key belonged to a child hidden somewhere in the world, you would have to keep searching instead of destroying the Whitmore family."

"Poetic," Julian said, his patience wearing thin. "But the search ends tonight. Bring the girl forward, or my men will dump both of you into the harbor."

Eleanor reached down, pulling the blanket away from the figure beside her.