Chapter 14
Chapter 14: The Beggar at the Gate
It was raining on Friday when the past tried to claw its way back in.
Emma’s driver had just pulled up to the imposing wrought-iron gates of the estate when a figure stepped out from the shadows of the stone pillars, blocking the driveway.
The driver slammed on the brakes.
It was Victoria.
She looked nothing like the polished socialite who had reigned over this house. Her hair was damp and stringy, her designer trench coat soaked through. Her makeup was entirely washed away, revealing the panicked, aging woman beneath the glamour.
She rushed to the back window, tapping frantically on the glass.
"Emma! Emma, please! Roll down the window!"
Emma sat in the plush leather seat, her face impassive. She looked at the woman who had birthed her. She remembered the sight of Victoria in the guest house, her limbs tangled with a man who was not her husband.
"Miss?" the driver asked gently, eyeing the rearview mirror. "Should I call security?"
Victoria pressed her hands against the wet glass. "Just five minutes! Emma, let me explain! He won't answer my calls! I have nowhere to go!"
Emma reached forward and pressed the intercom button.
"Drive through," she instructed the driver.
"But she's blocking the—"
"Drive through. She'll move."
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The heavy engine of the Bentley revved. The car inched forward, the grille pressing dangerously close to Victoria’s knees. For a second, the older woman tried to hold her ground, her face twisting in disbelief. But as the car did not stop, self-preservation kicked in. Victoria stumbled backward, falling onto the wet asphalt.
Emma didn't look back as the gates slowly closed behind them, locking the storm out.
