Chapter 17 - Victoria and Julian Turned on Each Other
Victoria was found because she called 911.
Not for Leo. Not for Ethan. For herself.
She was hiding with Julian in a rented farmhouse near Lancaster when their alliance collapsed.
According to Victoria, Julian became violent after learning Ethan planned to place the company voting shares into an independent trust.
“He said everything was ruined,” she told police.
Her face was bruised. Her wrist was sprained. The injuries were real.
Sarah felt no satisfaction.
A person could be cruel and still become someone else’s victim. Both truths could stand.
Julian fled before police arrived.
Victoria was taken into custody.
For the first time, she had no father beside her, no PR team, no engagement ring opening doors.
Her attorney requested a proffer.
Naomi Reed, the special prosecutor now coordinating the case, agreed.
Victoria sat behind glass.
Sarah watched remotely with Ethan.
“Did you give Leo medication?” Naomi asked.
Victoria stared at the table.
“Yes.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“What medication?”
“Infant antihistamine. Once. Then a sedative twice.”
Sarah’s hands tightened.
“Why?”
“He wouldn’t sleep.”
“He was not your child.”
“I was going to be his mother.”
Naomi’s voice sharpened.
“That is not consent.”
Victoria began crying.
“I know.”
Sarah did not know whether she believed the remorse.
“Did you direct steam toward him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He was screaming.”
“Did you intend to injure him?”
“No.”
“Did you intend to frighten him?”
Silence.
“Yes.”
Sarah looked away.
There it was.
No dramatic excuse. No accident. A grown woman deliberately frightening a helpless infant because his crying offended her sense of control.
Naomi asked about the rabbit.
Victoria admitted taking it away to stop Leo from “using crying to manipulate adults.”
“He was a baby,” Naomi said.
“I know that now.”
“You knew it then.”
Victoria broke.
“Yes.”
Ethan whispered, “Enough.”
Sarah looked at him.
He was shaking.
They paused the feed.
After ten minutes, Ethan said, “Continue.”
Victoria admitted Malcolm taught her about the trust.
Julian encouraged her to destabilize Ethan.
Evelyn advised her for years under secret communication.
“Did Evelyn tell you to harm Leo?”
“No.”
“Did Julian?”
“He told me to keep Leo difficult.”
Sarah felt sick.
“What does that mean?”
“He said if Ethan was exhausted, he would depend on me.”
So the waking.
The withheld comfort.
The unauthorized medication.
Not random.
An effort to make the baby harder to care for so Victoria could present herself as the solution.
Naomi asked, “Who tampered with Ethan’s car?”
“Julian.”
“Did Malcolm know?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“After.”
“Why not report it?”
Victoria laughed bitterly.
“Because by then we were all criminals pretending we were still family.”
That sentence might have been the most truthful thing she ever said.
Then came Amelia.
Victoria claimed Amelia planned her disappearance voluntarily.
“She hated the Blackwoods.”
“Did she hate Ethan?”
“No.”
“Then why leave him?”
“She thought Ethan would choose the company over her.”
Ethan flinched.
Sarah saw.
Naomi asked, “Was she right?”
Victoria looked toward the camera.
“I don’t know.”
Sarah knew Ethan was asking himself.
Victoria continued.
“Amelia found evidence Evelyn was alive. She confronted Malcolm. Malcolm helped her escape because Amelia threatened to expose his medical schemes.”
“Why fake the body?”
“Evelyn arranged it.”
The room went silent.
“What?”
“Evelyn had people at St. Matthew’s. She supplied the replacement identity.”
“Rebecca Sloan?”
“I don’t know the name.”
“Did Amelia know another woman would be put in her coffin?”
Victoria hesitated.
“Yes.”
Ethan stood and walked out.
Sarah followed.
He reached the empty corridor before breaking.
“She knew.”
Sarah stayed near but did not touch him.
“She let another woman be buried as her.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know who I’m grieving anymore.”
“You don’t have to decide today.”
He looked at her.
“I loved her.”
“I know.”
“I may still.”
“I know.”
“And I’m furious.”
“You can be both.”
He laughed weakly.
“You make contradictions sound survivable.”
“They usually are.”
Back inside, Victoria gave them Julian’s likely destination.
An old Blackwood hunting lodge.
Police found evidence he had been there.
Not Julian.
But a laptop.
On it were communications with Evelyn.
One message:
VICTORIA FAILED. ETHAN CHOSE THE CHILD.
Evelyn replied:
THEN ETHAN IS NO LONGER USEFUL.
Sarah stared.
Another:
BRING ME LEO'S TRUST TOKEN.
Ruth Benton explained.
The trust token was a physical authentication key stored in Ethan’s bank vault.
Without it, major control changes required court review.
Julian had been trying to obtain it.
Ethan said, “He’ll never get it.”
Then Ruth’s phone rang.
The bank.
Someone had accessed the safe deposit room that morning using Ethan’s biometric authorization.
Impossible.
Unless the authorization was forged.
The box was empty.
The trust token was gone.
Security footage showed the thief.
Not Julian.
Not Victoria.
Amelia Blackwood.
Alive.
Walking calmly out of the bank.
Victoria’s confession forced Sarah to confront an uncomfortable truth: she had spent weeks imagining one enormous hidden act when the real cruelty was often smaller and repeated. Wake the baby. Withhold comfort. Give medication without permission. Frighten him to stop crying. Each act could be minimized by someone determined to minimize it. Together, they formed a pattern of domination over a child too young to explain himself. Sarah told Naomi she wanted the final case presentation to show the pattern, not turn Leo into spectacle. Naomi agreed. “We don’t need to exaggerate what happened,” she said. “We need to make sure nobody shrinks it.”
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Ethan asked Naomi whether Victoria’s own victimization by Julian would reduce responsibility for what she had done to Leo. Naomi answered carefully: “It may matter to understanding her. It does not erase her choices.” Sarah appreciated the distinction. Mercy and accountability did not have to cancel each other. Neither did compassion require forgetting who had been powerless.
Before leaving the interview center, Sarah looked through the glass at Victoria one last time. She no longer saw a glamorous rival or a mysterious villain. She saw an adult who had repeatedly chosen control over care. That clarity mattered. It kept the story from becoming larger than the facts and kept Leo, not Victoria, at its center.
