Chapter 228: Falling Followers

"Mr Heathcliffe asked himself the same question too about her finances." Adrian said.

"Raymond left money for her. Money she was supposed to be able to access once she turned eighteen. It was an investment in Whitmore Investment Company," Marianne continued. "Raymond trusted his sister’s husband. He made a lot of investments, but he held that one specifically for us."

Adrian’s mind began connecting pieces before she even finished. "I’m guessing ten million?"

"Yes! Yes!" She looked relieved that he knew. "Please, tell me she has it."

"I don’t know, Marianne," Adrian said carefully. "It was a puzzle Mr Heathcliffe was already trying to untangle before I took your case, and communication has been a little tricky. I only see him once every two weeks to go over everything so we don’t draw attention to what we’re doing."

Marianne lowered her head.

A sob escaped her.

"It makes so much sense now. This is all about money." she whispered. "That’s why that lawyer was here wanting me to sign things." She lifted her head again, panic spreading across her face as the pieces fell into place. "I was supposed to get the money, but since I can’t, it goes to Naomi."

"So you can also be a signatory to transferring these funds to someone else?"

"Yes. Yes..." Marianne pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. "My God..."

The guilt hit her all at once.

"What have I put my baby through?" Her eyes filled again. She had convinced herself that staying away from Naomi had been protection. That allowing her daughter to believe she was dead was cruel but necessary. She believed that Diana would keep Naomi safe.

And now every new piece of information seemed to suggest the exact opposite.

"Adrian, please... please, you have to get me out of here. I have to protect my baby. I have to."

"It’s not long now. I promise. I’m doing everything I can. We have secured a court date. That is progress. Real progress. But you cannot tip the Whitmores off about anything."

She nodded quickly. "I won’t."

"Nothing, Marianne. Not a phone call. Not even a change in how you speak to Diana if she comes here again. If they realise we know something, they could start covering their tracks."

Marianne swallowed hard. "Please... I’ll do anything. I’ll even take back everything I said before."

Adrian shook his head immediately. "No. That will mess up our entire case plan. Everything we’ve built depends on keeping the story exactly where it is. Just trust that this will be okay," he assured her.

Marianne looked at Adrian as though every bit of hope she had left was resting on his shoulders.

Adrian got to his feet, rounded the desk and sat on the edge of it, bringing himself a little closer to her. "Do not question your decision to protect your child," he said gently. "At the time, you used the information you had to make the best decision you could. No one can see the future, Mrs Bennett. Be strong."

"Promise me, Adrian. Promise me that Dorian can take good care of my baby girl, whatever happens."

"He loves your daughter."

"No. No..." Marianne shook her head quickly. "Sometimes love itself isn’t enough." Her eyes searched his face desperately. "Is he a good man through and through?"

Adrian considered the question carefully.

Dorian Heathcliffe was a lot of things.

Good through and through was perhaps too clean a description for him.

But when it came to Naomi, Adrian didn’t doubt him. He had front row seat to how much the man battled his feelings.

"He is a sensitive man," Adrian said. "He would never deliberately hurt Mrs Heathcliffe." He could see she was trapped inside a prison while everything concerning her daughter seemed to be unraveling outside. She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t fix anything. She couldn’t even pick up the phone and warn Naomi.

So she was clinging to every reassurance available to her.

"How about I promise you something else? I will always look out for her. Always," Adrian continued. "Until you get out, of course. Then you can do the looking out yourself."

A tearful laugh finally escaped her.

"Thank you." She wiped beneath her eyes. "Of course. Thank you."

*****

Camille was in hiding. She was still inside her penthouse, of course, but she had somehow managed to hide in the one place she was usually most visible.

Online.

For a woman who practically lived on social media, silence had become self-preservation. The attacks were everywhere now.

Her follower count was dropping fast, and Naomi was not helping matters by releasing another carefully worded post every now and then, each one adding another little shovel of dirt onto Camille’s rapidly collapsing public image.

People had started giving her labels.

Obsessed.

Needy.

Slut.

And those were only the nicer ones. Screenshots of her old posts around Dorian’s office and court appearances were circulating again, except now people were viewing them with completely different eyes.

What Camille had once presented as mysterious hints about reconnecting with an ex-husband now looked increasingly like a woman publicly chasing a married man who wanted nothing to do with her.

That was not the storyline she had planned. Worse, her face was still bruised from Naomi’s attack.

The swelling had gone down somewhat, but there was still no filter powerful enough to transform her current appearance into glamorous perfection.

So, for once, online wasn’t her go-to.

Camille’s image was slipping through her fingers. She was trending, which ordinarily would have pleased her.

Unfortunately, she was trending for all the wrong reasons. For a woman who had built a considerable part of her public persona around independence, confidence and never needing a man to validate her, being publicly dubbed a husband snatcher was not exactly ideal branding.

Every smug little quote she had ever made about women standing on their own was now being dragged back out and thrown at her with brutal enthusiasm.

People were beginning to suspect she had been the one who leaked the news about Dorian and Naomi’s marriage contract out of spite.

Some were even suggesting the contract might not be real at all.

Camille nearly threw her phone across the room when she saw that one.

First of all, she had leaked it to prove that Naomi was a gold-digging bitch. And second, it was absolutely true.

The problem was that Naomi had somehow managed to turn the entire situation around. With every post she made, the knife seemed to twist deeper.

Naomi wasn’t behaving like the jealous, insecure woman Camille had hoped people would see. She was being composed, wounded and in the middle of it all, maintaining her husband’s innocence in all of it. She was the picture of the perfect, secure wife.

Camille dropped her phone onto the couch and paced.

Then the intercom rang.

She answered it sharply.

The doorman informed her that Mr Heathcliffe was downstairs to see her.

Alistair had probably seen what was happening online and come over to yell at her again.

She could already hear the insults.

The comments about her intelligence.

Usually, he didn’t bother announcing himself.

He simply came straight up.

Camille adjusted the robe around herself and headed toward the living area, preparing mentally for another unpleasant conversation.

The elevator chimed. The doors opened.

And Dorian stepped out.

Camille stopped dead. "Dorian?"