Chapter 6: What Dorian Did Next
Dorian moved fast.
She had expected that.
By the time Maren returned to the garden with Petra beside her, two things had already changed.
The estate manager — a narrow man in a gray suit — was positioned near the terrace steps, clearly watching for her.
And Celestine was no longer at the cliff edge.
She was seated at the main family table, very straight, very composed, with Elodie in the chair beside her and a fixed expression that Maren recognized as someone performing calm for an audience.
Dorian was at the bar.
He saw Maren the moment she stepped through the garden gate.
His eyes moved to Petra.
Something shifted in his face — not panic, not quite, but the first real crack in the certainty he had been wearing all afternoon.
The estate manager intercepted them before they reached the terrace.
"Ms.
Vale.
Mr.
Mercer has asked me to let you know that transport has been arranged to take you back to the main road.
If you'll come with me—"
"I'm a guest," Petra said.
"I received an invitation."
The manager blinked.
"I'm sorry?"
"Aldric sent it.
On behalf of the Mercer family." She produced a printed card from her jacket pocket.
"I believe the invitation is valid."
It was a small thing.
But it stopped the manager long enough for Dorian to cross the garden himself.
He arrived at the edge of their group and looked at Petra with an expression that was almost perfectly neutral.
"I don't believe we've met," he said.
"We haven't," Petra said.
"But your law firm has met me.
They wrote to me three years ago.
I still have the letter."
The string quartet finished a piece.
There was a brief silence across the garden as guests applauded.
"I think," Dorian said quietly, "that the two of you should come inside.
We can discuss whatever concerns you have privately, without—"
"No," Maren said.
He looked at her.
"We're not going inside," she said.
"We're going to stand here, and you're going to listen.
And then you're going to decide what you want to do next."
"Maren." His voice dropped to something that was almost gentle.
"You're making a mistake.
Whatever Aldric has told you, whatever documents he's shown you, I have a legal team that has spent three years building an airtight case around Elodie's custody.
You cannot walk onto this property and undo that in an afternoon."
"I'm not trying to undo it in an afternoon," she said.
"I'm giving you the chance to do the right thing before a court does it for you."
"The right thing." He almost smiled.
"And what does that look like to you?"
"It looks like you calling your lawyer tonight and beginning the process of reversing a custody arrangement that was obtained through fraud." She kept her voice even.
"It looks like you acknowledging, privately and legally, that the signature on the original document was not mine.
It looks like Elodie having access to me — regular, documented, protected access — starting immediately."
"And if I don't?"
Maren reached into her jacket and placed the USB drive on the terrace railing between them.
"Then on Monday morning, a family law attorney in Portland files a fraud claim supported by a notarized witness statement, forged correspondence bearing my name, and seventeen minutes of security footage showing you meeting with the lawyer who drafted the original custody document four days before I was admitted to the hospital."
Dorian looked at the drive.
He did not touch it.
"You're bluffing," he said.
"Aldric has worked here for twenty-two years," Maren said.
"He knows where every camera is.
He knows which footage was archived and which was overwritten.
He made sure this particular footage was not overwritten." She paused.
"He's been waiting for someone to come and ask the right questions."
Dorian's jaw tightened.
He looked at Petra.
Then back at Maren.
"What you're describing would be enormously disruptive to Elodie," he said.
"She's four years old.
She doesn't know you.
Dragging her through a legal proceeding—"
"She's four years old," Maren said, "and she apologizes when she spills water.
She checks your wife's face before she speaks.
She pressed her hand over a wound on her wrist and said nothing about it." Her voice stayed level.
"I'm not dragging her through anything.
I'm asking you to stop."
Something moved across Dorian's face.
It was the first time all afternoon that she felt she was seeing something real.
He picked up the USB drive.
Turned it over once in his hand.
"I need to speak with my attorney," he said.
"Of course."
"This conversation is not an admission of anything."
"I understand."
He pocketed the drive and walked back toward the estate.
At the terrace steps he paused without turning around.
"Celestine knew nothing about the original document," he said.
"I want that on record."
Maren said nothing.
He went inside.
Petra exhaled beside her — a long, shaking breath she had clearly been holding for several minutes.
"Do you believe him?" she asked.
"About Celestine?"
Maren looked across the garden to where Celestine sat at the family table, very still, watching the estate door close behind her husband.
"No," Maren said.
Celestine stood up from the table.
She said something to the woman beside her — a brief, quiet sentence.
Then she lifted Elodie from her chair, took her by the hand, and began walking toward the garden gate.
May you like
Not toward the estate.
Toward Maren.
