Chapter 6 - Sabina’s Perfect Story Begins to Crack
The next morning, Chadworth canceled everything.
His chief operating officer called at 6:12.
Chadworth declined the call.
At 6:19, his assistant texted about a conference in Chicago.
He postponed it.
At 6:31, someone reminded him of a breakfast with investors.
He canceled.
At 6:45, Gemma wandered downstairs holding her stuffed rabbit.
She stopped when she saw him making pancakes.
“Daddy?”
Chadworth turned.
The pancake was burned.
The kitchen smelled faintly of smoke.
He smiled.
“Good morning.”
Gemma stared at him as if he had appeared from another planet.
“You’re cooking?”
“Apparently badly.”
She climbed onto a stool.
“You don’t cook.”
“I’m discovering that.”
Lorelai appeared moments later.
She looked equally suspicious.
“Don’t you have work?”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you going?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Chadworth placed a plate in front of her.
“Because breakfast with you is work I’ve neglected.”
Lorelai stared at him.
Then at the blackened pancake.
“Can Rosamund help?”
Chadworth laughed.
“Yes. Please.”
Rosamund entered ten minutes later and rescued breakfast.
For an hour, the mansion felt different.
Not fixed.
But warmer.
Then reality returned.
Sabina’s attorney called.
She denied wrongdoing.
The bracelet, according to her lawyer, had been misplaced and later recovered.
The boarding-school correspondence had merely been “preliminary research.”
Her behavior toward the children had been “reasonable household discipline taken out of context.”
Chadworth listened without interruption.
Then he sent the preserved recordings to his attorney.
He did not argue.
He had learned enough about arguments.
Evidence was better.
More importantly, he asked a child psychologist recommended by the girls’ pediatrician to help him approach conversations with Lorelai and Gemma carefully.
He did not interrogate them.
He did not ask them to repeat every painful detail.
He told them one thing.
They were safe to speak.
Over the following days, pieces emerged naturally.
Sabina had often told them Rosamund would disappear if they complained.
She had told Lorelai her father preferred “easy children.”
She had repeatedly implied Gemma’s crying annoyed him.
She had used Chadworth’s absence as leverage.
The pattern had not been spectacular enough to attract attention.
That was why it worked.
It consisted of hundreds of small moments.
A sentence here.
A cold look there.
A privilege removed.
A phone call interrupted.
A child convinced that speaking would make everything worse.
And Chadworth had unknowingly helped create the conditions for it.
That truth stayed with him.
He could remove Sabina from the mansion.
He could not pretend his own absence had nothing to do with what happened.
On Friday afternoon, Lorelai found him in his study.
He expected her to ask for something.
Instead, she stood in the doorway.
“Are you busy?”
Chadworth looked at his laptop.
Twenty-three unread messages.
Three urgent documents.
A merger waiting for approval.
Then he closed it.
“No.”
Lorelai noticed.
“You were.”
“I was.”
“Then why did you close it?”
“Because you came in.”
She stared at him for several seconds.
“Can I sit?”
“Always.”
She climbed into the chair across from him.
“Are you going to marry somebody else?”
Chadworth had not expected the question.
“Not anytime soon.”
“Ever?”
“I don’t know.”
She considered that.
“Okay.”
Another silence.
Then:
“Sabina said you needed a wife because we were too much work.”
Chadworth’s face tightened.
“No.”
“She said men like you don’t want to come home to problems.”
He moved around the desk and crouched beside her.
“You and Gemma are not problems.”
Lorelai’s eyes filled.
“Even when we’re annoying?”
“Especially then.”
That made her laugh.
A tiny laugh.
But it was enough.
He hugged her.
That evening, Chadworth made another decision.
He reduced his travel schedule.
Not abandoned work.
Not sold his companies.
Not transformed overnight into a man without responsibilities.
He simply stopped treating every business demand as more urgent than his daughters.
Some meetings became video calls.
Some trips went to executives.
Some dinners were declined.
He created something his staff found almost revolutionary.
Protected family time.
No calls.
No interruptions unless genuinely critical.
At first, Chadworth felt restless.
Then he began discovering pieces of his daughters’ lives he should have known.
Gemma hated peas but loved carrots.
Lorelai secretly wrote stories.
Gemma could not sleep without the hallway light on.
Lorelai pretended she had outgrown bedtime stories but listened from the doorway whenever Chadworth read to Gemma.
And Rosamund knew all of it.
One evening Chadworth found her in the kitchen.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me Lorelai writes?”
Rosamund smiled.
“She wanted to tell you herself.”
“Apparently she’s written forty pages.”
“Forty-three.”
“You knew?”
“I clean her room.”
Chadworth laughed.
Then his expression became serious.
“Thank you.”
Rosamund stopped.
“For what?”
“Staying.”
Her smile faded.
“I almost didn’t.”
“I wouldn’t have blamed you.”
Rosamund looked toward the stairs.
“I stayed for them.”
“I know.”
Then the doorbell rang.
Malcolm answered.
Several minutes later he entered the kitchen holding an envelope.
“No return address.”
Chadworth took it.
Inside was a key.
Nothing else.
A small brass key with a numbered tag.
Rosamund stared at it.
“What does it open?”
“I don’t know.”
Malcolm examined the number.
Then his expression changed.
“I might.”
The number corresponded to a private storage facility used by Prescott Holdings.
Chadworth frowned.
“I don’t rent a unit there.”
“Your company does.”
“Which department?”
Malcolm checked.
Then looked up.
“None.”
The rental had been created under Chadworth’s personal authorization.
Except Chadworth had never signed it.
Someone had used his credentials.
The start date was eight months earlier.
Two months before Sabina first accused Rosamund.
The following morning, Chadworth and Malcolm opened the storage unit.
Inside were several boxes.
Most contained documents.
Copies of financial statements.
Household schedules.
Travel calendars.
Information about the girls’ schools.
And photographs of rooms inside Chadworth’s mansion.
Malcolm looked disturbed.
“This is organized.”
Chadworth opened another box.
Inside was a folder labeled after his upcoming wedding.
The wedding that would now never happen.
He opened it.
On top sat a detailed post-marriage household plan.
Rosamund’s termination.
Boarding-school enrollment.
Changes to staff.
Changes to Chadworth’s travel schedule.
Even proposed restrictions on who could contact him directly.
Sabina had not been preparing to join his family.
She had been preparing to control access to it.
Then Chadworth reached the final page.
There was a handwritten note.
Only six words.
He never notices what happens at home.
Chadworth stared at it for a long time.
It was cruel.
It was manipulative.
And until a week earlier, it had been true.
He closed the folder.
“No more.”
Malcolm looked at him.
Chadworth placed the papers back inside.
“No one gets between me and my daughters again.”
But saying it was easy.
Keeping that promise would require Chadworth to change something much harder than his security system.
May you like
He would have to change himself.
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