Chapter 9 - THE FIANCÉE WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
Dalia admitted she paid the clinic.
But not to continue Julian’s infertility.
To reverse it.
Everyone stared.
“What?” Julian asked.
She began crying.
“When we got engaged, I wanted children.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You were pregnant with Elliot’s.”
“I didn’t know yet.”
The payment was for a specialist consultation.
Dalia had discovered Julian’s infertility before he told her.
She wanted to know whether treatment existed.
That led her to Dr. Vale’s old records.
And eventually to the truth about Victor and Margaret.
“So you weren’t part of it,” I said.
“No.”
She looked at me.
“I actually found out you were never infertile.”
The words still hurt, even though I knew.
Dalia continued:
“I wanted to tell you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Margaret threatened me.”
“Of course.”
“She said she would destroy my pageant title.”
Gabriel frowned.
“My foundation funded that program.”
“Yes.”
“That means she risked implicating us.”
Dalia nodded.
Gabriel looked angry now.
Not because of me.
Because his philanthropy had been used as leverage.
The pageant scholarship that launched Dalia had come through a Lancaster Foundation initiative.
Margaret had used sponsorship contacts to pressure her.
Gabriel immediately ordered an independent review.
Three days later, we found it.
Margaret had been quietly buying influence inside several charities.
Beauty pageants.
Hospitals.
Fertility clinics.
PR firms.
All to control narratives around Julian’s image.
Dalia was not just the glamorous younger woman who “won.”
She had been recruited.
Styled.
Promoted.
Fed into Julian’s life at exactly the right moment.
I stared at her.
“Did Margaret introduce you?”
“Yes.”
Julian went pale.
The pattern repeated.
Victor introduced Julian to me for business reasons.
Margaret introduced Julian to Dalia for image reasons.
His entire romantic life had been curated by his parents.
Almost.
Julian looked at me.
“Except Northwestern.”
I knew what he meant.
Victor may have suggested me.
But Julian had still come back to that bookstore café the next day with caramel tea and notes in a business book.
That part had been him.
Dalia looked at Julian.
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
Then she turned to me.
“I’m more sorry to you.”
I waited.
“I enjoyed the way people compared us.”
That honesty surprised me.
“I liked being younger.”
I said nothing.
“I liked being called the upgrade.”
Her voice broke.
“I knew it hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
That mattered more than pretending she had been completely innocent.
I nodded once.
Not absolution.
Acknowledgment.
Elliot entered the room.
He had been working with federal investigators.
His expression was serious.
“Margaret’s leaving the country.”
Julian stood.
“How?”
“Private jet.”
“Where?”
“Switzerland.”
Gabriel looked at me.
Why Switzerland?
Then Elliot said:
“She has the original Bennett archive.”
My stomach dropped.
The notebook had been only part.
The real archive still existed.
And Margaret was taking it.
But Elliot added:
“She isn’t running because of the patents.”
“Then why?” Julian asked.
“Because the archive contains a recording.”
“What recording?”
May you like
He looked at Julian.
“Victor Duval confessing that he arranged Henry Bennett’s accident.”
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