Chapter 12 - The Red Apples
The first apple appeared on Catherine’s pillow at 1:17 in the morning.
Red. Polished. Perfect.
No note.
No fingerprints.
Blackthorn Manor had thirty-eight active cameras and twelve overnight security employees. None recorded anyone entering Catherine’s bedroom.
She summoned everyone.
Arthur heard about it before breakfast.
Marcus read the security report aloud. “She fired two guards, accused the housekeeper of witchcraft, and had the ventilation system searched.”
Arthur sipped coffee. “Efficient morning.”
Elena stared at him.
“You did it.”
Arthur looked innocent.
“Did what?”
“The apple.”
“I’m on medical leave.”
“Arthur.”
He smiled.
“It was Marcus.”
Marcus looked offended. “You said never confess for me.”
Elena shook her head.
“No.”
Arthur’s smile faded.
“No?”
“You don’t get to become her.”
“It’s an apple.”
“It’s psychological warfare.”
“Exactly.”
Elena stood.
Arthur followed.
“She kept you underground for six years.”
“I know.”
“She drugged me.”
“I know.”
“She treated our children like tissue samples.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you defending her?”
“I’m not.”
Elena’s eyes hardened.
“I’m defending you from becoming someone who needs fear to feel powerful.”
The words landed.
Arthur looked away.
Marcus quietly left the room.
Elena continued, “Send evidence. Freeze accounts. Call prosecutors. Destroy her in court if that’s what justice requires. But don’t teach yourself to enjoy watching someone panic.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened.
“She deserves panic.”
“Maybe.”
Elena stepped closer.
“But you deserve better than needing it.”
Arthur did not answer for a long time.
Then he said, “No more apples.”
Elena nodded.
That should have ended it.
It didn’t.
The second apple appeared the next night.
Arthur had spent the day keeping his promise to Elena. He met federal counsel, authorized the transfer of every recovered file to independent custodians, and told Marcus the psychological games were finished.
"No more clever messages," Arthur said.
Marcus looked disappointed. "You wound me."
"Good. Heal quietly."
That evening Arthur told Elena exactly what he had done. She did not praise him. She simply nodded, which somehow meant more.
Then Catherine called three times and Arthur let every call go to voicemail.
Arthur had nothing to do with the second apple.
Neither did Marcus.
Catherine found it inside her locked dressing-room safe.
This time a strip of paper had been wrapped around the stem.
DO YOU REMEMBER THE FIRE?
Arthur stared at the photograph Catherine’s terrified assistant had secretly sent Marcus.
Elena stood beside him.
“That isn’t you?”
“No.”
“Marcus?”
“No.”
Her face changed.
“Then who?”
Before dawn, Catherine called Arthur once.
She did not mention the apple directly.
“Have you been inside my rooms?”
“No.”
“Think carefully.”
“I have.”
Her silence was more revealing than accusation. Catherine was not asking because she trusted his answer. She was asking because, for the first time, she did not know who inside her own house belonged to her.
The third apple appeared in Catherine’s car.
The fourth on the lectern at a charity luncheon.
The fifth inside Silas Rowan’s medical bag.
Each carried a message.
SHE LIVED.
THE CHILDREN REMEMBER.
THE BASEMENT HAS EYES.
Catherine stopped sleeping at Blackthorn Manor.
She moved to the penthouse at Vale Tower.
The apples followed.
Stella began sleeping elsewhere.
Silas hired private security.
Someone was tormenting the conspiracy from inside it.
Arthur’s first suspicion was Naomi Reed.
Then Naomi reappeared.
She walked into Marcus’s office at 6:30 one evening wearing the same coat she had disappeared in four days earlier.
Arthur stood so fast his chair fell.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Naomi locked the door behind her.
“Hiding.”
“Stella took you.”
“No.”
Arthur stopped.
Naomi placed a flash drive on the desk.
“She tried.”
“What happened?”
“The man who came into my office wasn’t working for Stella. He told me to leave if I wanted to stay alive.”
“Who?”
Naomi looked at Elena.
“Julian Vale.”
Silence.
Arthur stared.
“Julian is alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know now.”
Naomi sat.
“He’s sick, but not the way Catherine says. He can walk. He can think. He knows about the children.”
Elena’s face hardened.
“And?”
“He doesn’t want their marrow.”
Arthur felt the room tilt.
Naomi continued, “He says Catherine has been using his illness to justify experiments he never consented to.”
Arthur sat slowly.
“Why warn you?”
“Because he’s been trying to collect evidence against her too.”
Marcus picked up the flash drive.
“What’s on this?”
“Medical records from Helix Crown. Real ones.”
Arthur inserted the drive into an isolated laptop.
Files appeared.
Julian’s treatments.
Catherine’s rejuvenation trials.
Arthur’s drug regimen.
The children’s genomic profiles.
And dozens of other names.
Not five children.
Thirty-two.
Elena covered her mouth.
Arthur whispered, “There are more.”
Naomi nodded.
“Not imprisoned. Most are children of employees or families treated through Vale clinics. Their samples were collected under broad consent forms.”
Marcus swore.
Arthur scrolled.
The apples suddenly made sense.
“Julian is sending them.”
Naomi shook her head.
“He said he wasn’t.”
Arthur looked up.
“Then who is?”
Naomi pulled a folded note from her pocket.
“He gave me this.”
Arthur opened it.
Naomi explained that Julian had found her before Stella's hired men arrived. He had used an old medical access badge and a maintenance elevator to get her out. He had not asked for money or sympathy. He had only said, "If Catherine finds out I helped you, she'll decide I'm too sick to make decisions again."
That sentence stayed with Arthur. Catherine's method did not change depending on the person. If someone resisted her, she converted resistance into incapacity.
One sentence.
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FATHER.
Arthur’s breath stopped.
His father, Charles Vale, had died nine years earlier from a heart attack.
Or so Arthur had been told.
Elena looked at him.
“You never questioned it?”
“No.”
Naomi’s voice softened.
“You should.”
That night, Catherine received another apple.
This one had been cut cleanly in half.
Inside, carved into the pale flesh, were two initials.
C.V.
Not Catherine Vale.
Charles Vale.
May you like
And for the first time since the apples began, Catherine did not call security.
She called a priest.
