Chapter 7 - The Fractured Mind
Arthur did not shout. He didn't smash the glass bottles. The terrifying thing about Arthur Stone was the utter stillness that fell over him when he was ready to execute an enemy.
"Beatrice," Arthur said gently, without looking away from Vanessa. "Go to Mia. Draw a warm bath. Wash that filth off her face. Find some of her plain cotton nightgowns from the cedar trunk in the attic. Stay with her until I come."
"Yes, Mr. Arthur," Beatrice whispered. She gave Vanessa a look of profound disgust and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Arthur turned his attention back to his wife. Vanessa was trembling now, her emerald silk dress rustling against the bookshelf.
"Arthur, please," she stammered, dropping to her knees on the Persian rug. The haughty aristocrat had vanished, replaced by a groveling, panicked criminal. "Julian forced my hand! He threatened to expose my family’s debts! He and Harrison orchestrated the whole thing—they knew you were building a trust, and they promised to split the liquidated assets! I was terrified, Arthur! I was trying to protect myself!"
"You drugged a four-year-old child," Arthur said, his voice dropping into an abyss of cold fury. "You humiliated her in front of two hundred people. You tore up the only pictures she had of her dead mother. And you cut apart her toys with shears."
"I was sick! I wasn't thinking clearly!" she sobbed, clutching at his trousers with both hands. "You neglected me, Arthur! You lived with a ghost! Every day in this penthouse was Clara, Clara, Clara! You looked at Mia and you saw her! You never saw me!"
Arthur looked down at her with an expression of complete, nauseated pity.
"You are right about one thing, Vanessa," he said quietly. "I was blind. I was so consumed by my own sorrow, so terrified of facing my daughter’s grief alone, that I brought a monster into our sanctuary. I thought I was protecting her future by building financial walls, while I left the front gate unguarded."
He reached down and pried her fingers off his suit pants with mechanical strength.
"You will not spend another night under this roof."
"You can't throw me out!" she screamed, scrambling back up, her eyes wide with terror. "I am your legal wife! The courts—"
"The courts will be the least of your concerns," Arthur interrupted. He picked up the telephone once again. This time, there was no one to stop him.
"Operator. Get me District Attorney Frank Hogan. Tell him Arthur Stone is calling from Fifth Avenue with evidence of organized conspiracy, felony child endangerment, and commercial fraud."
He set the receiver down on the desk and looked at Vanessa.
"You have twenty minutes to take whatever fits into a single handbag and get out of my sight. If you are still in this building when the District Attorney's investigators arrive, you will be escorted out in handcuffs in front of the morning press."
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Vanessa stared at him, realizing the depth of her annihilation. Her social standing, her wealth, her carefully cultivated reputation—everything had turned to ash in a matter of thirty minutes. Without a word, clutching her skirts, she turned and fled the study, her sobbing cries echoing down the long, empty marble corridor.
***
