Chapter 12 - The Secret Journal
Two days later.
The Hawthorne mansion was quiet, the charity decorations removed and the ballroom closed off.
Police forensic teams had spent forty-eight hours searching the west wing, seizing medical bottles, digital tablets, and secret financial documents from Celeste’s private office.
Maya sat in the small nursery armchair, holding a warm cup of tea.
Noah lay in his own bed, wrapped in his favorite blue blanket, holding his stuffed fox tightly against his chest. His color was slowly returning, though he remained weak.
Jonathan walked into the nursery, carrying a small, worn leather book.
He looked haggard, his eyes ringed with dark circles, but his posture was different. The cold distance that had defined him for three years was gone.
"Maya," Jonathan said softly, sitting on the edge of the desk. "The police finished searching Celeste's private safe upstairs."
Maya looked up. "Did they find out what she was giving him?"
Jonathan nodded grimly. "High doses of heavy sedatives mixed into his night water. She was slowly deteriorating his neurological functions so she could gain legal guardianship over his mother's private trust fund."
Maya squeezed her teacup, her knuckles turning white. "Evelyn's trust."
"Evelyn left fifty million dollars exclusively to Noah, managed by a independent trustee until he turned eighteen," Jonathan explained, his voice shaking with anger. "If Noah was declared mentally unfit, control of the trust defaulted to his primary caregiver. Which Celeste was setting herself up to be."
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Jonathan opened the worn leather book in his hands.
"They also found this," Jonathan said softly, handing it to Maya. "It was hidden in Celeste's desk. It's Evelyn's private journal from her last month in hospice."
