CHAPTER 8: THE DESCOVERIES
1086 Words
Noel returned to the manor in the early hours of the morning, drained from the final preparations for the Trade Summit gala. He had managed to argue down three different regulatory issues and finalized his presentation, all with Victoria Hayes efficiently shadowing his every move. He felt professionally triumphant but emotionally empty. He was looking forward to nothing more than a few hours of sleep before resuming the relentless grind.
He found the manor eerily silent, the only sound the distant whir of the climate control. He walked into his suite, shrugging off his tailored suit jacket, already planning his apology to Ariel for missing their dinner.
It was impossible to miss.
The pillow where Ariel should have been sleeping was empty, and resting precisely in the center were the two devastating symbols of her absence: the heavy platinum wedding ring, glinting under the low light, and nestled beside it, his worn childhood photo album.
Noel’s exhaustion evaporated, replaced by a cold, searing shock. He didn’t touch the ring. He reached for the album, opening it with trembling hands. Tucked inside the first page, resting on a faded picture of his gap-toothed childhood smile, was the note.
He unfolded the paper, reading Ariel’s precise, steady handwriting:
“Noel, I can’t do this life. It’s too much. The pressure, your father, the expectations... I am leaving you. I am not cut out for this world. I am too weak to be an Anderson, and I am too afraid to raise a child in this suffocating legacy. Please, do not look for me. I am gone.”
Noel read the words, and the ground gave way beneath him. The cold, clinical truth hit him not as a surprise, but as an appalling confirmation of everything Henry had warned him about. The lie was brilliant in its cruelty: it appealed directly to Noel’s deepest insecurity—that the Anderson world was too much for anyone—while simultaneously crushing him with the knowledge that the woman he loved found him, and the life he offered, fundamentally lacking.
He didn't yell. He didn't break anything. He simply sank onto the edge of the bed, the note clutched in his hand, the pain turning into a black, hollow devastation. The woman he loved, the woman he had risked everything for, had chosen to validate every bitter word his father had ever spoken about her. She wasn't just gone; she had admitted she was too weak to fight for him.
He was sitting there, stunned into silence, when Henry walked in. Henry, who had supposedly been asleep, looked perfectly tailored and alert. He took one look at the empty pillow, the ring, and the note in Noel's hand, and his expression softened into a mask of solemn, pitying sorrow.
"My son," Henry murmured, walking over and placing a hand on Noel's shoulder. "I am so sorry. I truly am."
Noel looked up, his eyes glassy with unshed tears and confusion. "Father... the accident... she was supposed to be recovering..."
Henry shook his head slowly. "The accident was a symptom, Noel, not the cause. The pressure was too much for her. She couldn't handle the expectations, the scrutiny, the power. She took the trauma of the collision and used it as the excuse to confirm her decision. I wish I hadn't been right, son, but I warned you. She simply didn't have the strength of character for this world."
Henry’s calm, mournful affirmation sealed the narrative. In his vulnerable, shattered state, Noel clung to the only truth that made the pain manageable: Ariel was weak, and she abandoned him. The alternative—that his father was a cold-blooded monster who drove her away—was too vast and too terrifying to contemplate.
Henry gently removed the note from Noel's numb fingers. "I'll handle the press, son. This will be quiet. We'll simply issue a brief statement citing 'irreconcilable differences' and her need for privacy. You need to focus on the company."
The next morning, the official statement was released. Noel, operating in a deep, clinical shock, allowed Henry to manage everything, including the installation of the unmarked headstone for the "lost twin"—a constant, bitter reminder of the family Ariel had denied him.
Meanwhile, in her quiet wing of the manor, Sarah Anderson was wrestling with her own discovery.
The secretary who had helped Ariel escape the hospital, still pale and shaken by her unusual assignment, had delivered the cryptic note to Sarah as instructed: “Look for the Lighthouse, Sarah. Watch over Noel.”
Sarah stared at the small slip of paper, her brow furrowed. It was signed with a hasty 'A'. It was a final message from Ariel, but it contained no plea for help, only a warning and a request to protect her son. It was not the note of a woman running from weakness; it was the instruction of a woman running from danger.
The word Lighthouse resonated like a discordant bell. Sarah remembered Henry's hushed conversation in the study, always referring vaguely to the need for "securing the Lighthouse assets" and "managing the external risks." She realized Ariel's 'accident' had occurred shortly after she had seen something she shouldn't have.
Sarah knew that Noel had found a separate, final note, confirming his utter devastation. She heard Henry's cold, triumphant narrative echoing through the house—Ariel was weak, she abandoned the legacy.
But Sarah now held the truth: Ariel had sacrificed her marriage, endured Henry's attack, and fled, not because she was weak, but because she was protecting Noel from the dark underbelly of the empire.
The realization was terrifying. If Ariel was right, Henry was not just a ruthless businessman; he was a serious criminal. And he had driven his daughter-in-law to fake her own abandonment.
Sarah, a woman who had lived decades by observing and enduring, made a silent, profound vow. She folded the note carefully and slipped it into a hidden compartment in her antique writing desk. She could not openly challenge Henry; she had neither the resources nor the courage. But she could begin to Look for the Lighthouse.
She would watch over Noel, and she would slowly, secretly, start to piece together the truth about her husband's empire, ensuring that one day, when Noel was strong enough, he would have the weapon he needed to fight back.
- Writer
