Chapter 5 Breaking the Chain

**Chapter 5 — Breaking the Chain**

Morning came with a deceptive calm. I'd barely slept, spending hours poring over the documents from Henry's investigation. Each page revealed another layer of his obsessive control—photos of me at college, reports of my movements, detailed backgrounds on my family and friends. One file even contained medical records from the clinic in Portland where I'd terminated my pregnancy.

The violation made me physically ill.

I showered and dressed carefully, choosing a simple black dress that felt like armor. When I entered the dining room, Henry sat alone at the long table, the Wall Street Journal open beside his coffee cup. He looked up as I entered, his expression unreadable.

"Good morning, Olivia. Sleep well?"

"Where's Rachel?" I asked, ignoring his question as I took a seat far down the table.

"She left early. Something about an emergency at the gallery." His tone suggested there was no emergency at all. "Nathaniel is out as well. I believe he's meeting with his attorney."

Martha appeared silently with coffee and toast, which I couldn't bring myself to touch. When she left, closing the door behind her, Henry folded his newspaper with deliberate precision.

"We need to discuss last night," he said.

"Yes, we do." I met his gaze steadily. "Starting with how you've been stalking me for six years."

"Investigation isn't stalking, Olivia. It's due diligence."

"Due diligence?" I couldn't keep the incredulity from my voice. "You had someone photograph me going to a women's health clinic. You obtained my private medical records. That goes beyond due diligence into criminal territory."

Something dangerous flickered in his eyes. "I protect my interests. When Nathaniel became infatuated with you, I needed to know what kind of woman had such a hold on him."

"And when you decided to marry me? Was that protection too?"

Henry sipped his coffee before answering. "I won't deny I was curious about you. The girl who had occupied my son's thoughts for years, even after he believed you'd aborted his child without a second thought."

"You orchestrated that belief," I countered. "You made it impossible for him to contact me."

"Perhaps." He set down his cup. "But I didn't force you to terminate the pregnancy. That was your choice."

The blow landed exactly as he'd intended. "A choice I made believing Nathaniel had abandoned me."

"And now? What choice will you make knowing he returned not out of love but revenge?"

I pushed back my chair and stood. "I'm not discussing this anymore. Not until I have answers about these." I tossed the folder onto the table, photos and documents spilling across the polished surface.

Henry didn't even glance at them. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything. Why me? Why marry me if you thought I was so unsuitable?"

A thin smile curved his lips. "Because you fascinated me. The woman who had such power over my son—I wanted to understand it. And when we met, I discovered that spark myself. You're beautiful, intelligent, ambitious. You reminded me of Nathaniel's mother at your age."

"So I was an experiment? A way to relive your first marriage?"

"You were an opportunity," he corrected. "For both of us. You gained financial security, social status, a platform for your talents. I gained a beautiful wife who could help advance my business interests."

The cold calculation of it made my skin crawl. "And Nathaniel's feelings? My feelings? Those were irrelevant?"

"Feelings are always secondary to practicality, Olivia. I thought you understood that when you accepted my proposal."

I had understood nothing. I'd been flattered by Henry's attention, dazzled by his wealth and power, convinced that the attraction between us was genuine. Had I been so desperate to escape my past with Nathaniel that I'd willingly walked into another trap?

"I want a divorce," I said, the words spilling out before I'd fully formed the thought.

Henry's expression didn't change. "No, you don't."

"Excuse me?"

"You don't want a divorce. You want answers. You want to punish me for deceiving you." He rose from his chair, approaching me with measured steps. "But you won't divorce me. Not if you want to protect Rachel's gallery. Or your parents' new home in Florida—the one my foundation helped finance after your father's medical bills nearly bankrupted them."

My blood ran cold. "Are you threatening my family?"

"I'm reminding you of our arrangement. The benefits extend beyond just you and me." He stood before me now, close enough that I could smell his expensive cologne. "Think carefully about your next move, Olivia. Emotion leads to poor decisions."

Before I could respond, the dining room door opened and Nathaniel strode in. He took in the scene—the scattered documents, my rigid posture, Henry's proximity—and his expression hardened.

"Am I interrupting?" His voice was ice.

"Your father was just explaining the extent of his control over my life," I said, stepping away from Henry. "Apparently, it extends to my family and friends as well."

Nathaniel's gaze shifted to the documents on the table. "I see he's made his position clear."

"Crystal." I moved toward the door, needing to escape both of them. "If you'll excuse me."

"Olivia." Henry's voice stopped me. "We're not finished."

"Yes, we are." I turned back to face him. "For now."

As I left the dining room, I heard their voices rising, father and son locked once again in conflict. I hurried to my room, grabbed my phone and purse, and headed for the garage. I needed space to think, away from both men and the suffocating mansion.

I drove aimlessly for an hour before finding myself at the University of Washington campus where Nathaniel and I had met six years earlier. The irony wasn't lost on me. I parked and wandered to the arts building where we'd had our first class together—Art History 101, where he'd sat behind me for weeks before finally asking me to coffee.

My phone buzzed with texts from both Henry and Nathaniel, which I ignored. Instead, I called Rachel.

"Liv? Are you okay? Henry's assistant practically dragged me out this morning, saying there was an issue with the gallery license."

"There wasn't, was there?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"No." She sounded worried. "It was just to get me away from you. What's happening?"

"I need your help," I said quietly. "I need to know everything about Henry's past. His first marriage, his business practices, everything."

"Why? What are you thinking?"

"That I'm done being manipulated. If I'm going to break free of both of them, I need leverage."

Rachel was silent for a moment. "This is dangerous, Liv. Henry isn't someone you want as an enemy."

"He already is." I watched students hurrying to class, their lives so normal compared to the twisted web I'd found myself in. "Will you help me?"

"Of course I will. Come to my apartment. We'll figure this out together."

At Rachel's downtown loft, we spent hours researching Henry's past. Her friend Derek, a journalist specializing in corporate investigations, joined us with access to databases and sources beyond our reach.

"Henry Wilson built his fortune in the tech boom, but there were rumors of insider trading in the early days," Derek explained, scrolling through archived articles. "Nothing was ever proven, but several of his early competitors mysteriously lost funding or faced regulatory issues after crossing him."

"What about his first marriage?" I asked. "Nathaniel's mother?"

Derek pulled up another file. "Elena Kostova. Russian art dealer. They divorced when Nathaniel was ten. She died in a boating accident two years later."

"Convenient," Rachel muttered.

"The accident investigation was thorough," Derek continued. "No foul play suspected. But she had just filed for increased child support and visitation rights."

I studied Elena's photo—a striking woman with Nathaniel's intense eyes. "And Nathaniel? What do we know about him?"

Derek hesitated. "That's where things get interesting. After his mother's death, he was sent to boarding schools, rarely saw his father. Excelled academically but had disciplinary issues. Then something happened his sophomore year at UW. He was nearly expelled, but the records were sealed. After that, his behavior changed dramatically."

"What year was that?" I asked, a chill running through me.

"Fall semester, six years ago."

Just before we met. Just before Nathaniel had transformed from the campus rebel into the attentive, passionate man I'd fallen in love with.

"There's more," Derek said, turning his laptop toward me. "Three months after Nathaniel was sent to London, he was hospitalized following what was officially reported as a car accident. Unofficially..." He pointed to medical notes that mentioned self-inflicted injuries and psychological evaluation.

My heart constricted. "He tried to kill himself?"

"It looks that way," Derek confirmed. "And here's where it gets even more interesting. Two days after his hospital admission, Henry Wilson transferred five million dollars to a Dr. Victor Mercer, a psychiatrist specializing in behavior modification."

"Behavior modification?" Rachel looked alarmed. "What does that mean?"

"It could mean many things," Derek said carefully. "But Dr. Mercer has been controversial for his experimental treatments. Some former patients have called his methods psychological reprogramming."

The implications turned my stomach. Had Henry sent Nathaniel to be "reprogrammed" after he'd tried to harm himself? Was that part of keeping us apart?

My phone buzzed again—Nathaniel calling for the third time. This time, I answered.

"Where are you?" His voice was tense with worry. "I've been looking everywhere."

"I needed space to think," I replied. "Away from both of you."

"Olivia, it's not safe. My father—"

"I know more than you think about your father," I cut him off. "And about you. About what happened after you were sent to London."

Silence stretched between us. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. "Who told you?"

"Does it matter? Why didn't you tell me yourself?"

"Because I barely remember it," he admitted. "Those months are... fragmented. The treatment—"

"Dr. Mercer's treatment?" I pressed.

His sharp intake of breath confirmed my suspicions. "How do you know that name?"

"I'm done being in the dark, Nathaniel. I'm investigating both of you."

"Olivia, listen to me." Urgency filled his voice. "Whatever you're doing, stop. Come back to the house. We need to talk—somewhere safe, where he can't hear us."

"Why would I trust you now? You came back for revenge."

"I came back because I finally remembered everything!" The raw emotion in his voice made me pause. "The treatments didn't just help me recover from my suicide attempt—they altered my memories. Of you, of us. For years, I believed you'd coldly terminated our child, that you'd never really loved me. But when I saw the announcement of your engagement to my father, something broke through. Fragments started coming back."

My hand tightened on the phone. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I came back confused and angry, with pieces of the truth but not the whole picture. Yes, I wanted revenge—but I also needed to understand. And seeing you again... it triggered more memories. Real ones."

Hope and doubt warred within me. "How convenient that your memory returns just when you're caught in a lie."

"I know how it sounds," he acknowledged. "But please, come back to the house. There's something I need to show you—something that proves what I'm saying."

"I'm not coming back right now."

"Then meet me somewhere public. Please, Olivia. It's about the baby. Our baby."

His words hit me like a physical blow. "What about our baby?"

"Not over the phone. Just... trust me one more time."

After I hung up, Rachel grabbed my arm. "You're not seriously considering meeting him?"

"I need to know what he has to say about the baby." My voice caught on the word. Despite the years that had passed, the loss still felt raw.

"It could be a trap," Derek warned. "If Henry Wilson really did have his son's memories altered, who knows what else he's capable of?"

I stared at the scattered papers before us—evidence of Henry's manipulations, hints of Nathaniel's broken past, and the tangled web that had ensnared all of us.

"I'll meet him at the university coffee shop where we had our first date," I decided. "Public, crowded, safe. And I want you both nearby."

Rachel nodded reluctantly. "We'll be at the next table. But Liv—be careful. If even half of what we've discovered is true, you're caught between two very dangerous men."

As we gathered our research, my phone chimed with a text from an unknown number. The message contained only an image—a grainy ultrasound picture with a date from six years ago. My ultrasound. The one I thought had been lost when I moved apartments after the procedure.

Beneath it was a simple message: "Some things aren't what they seem. I'll explain everything."

My hands trembled as I showed the image to Rachel. "How did he get this?"

Rachel's expression was grim. "That's what worries me. Either he's had it all along..."

"Or Henry has been keeping even more secrets than we thought," I finished, a chill running through me.

As we left Rachel's apartment, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was heading toward a revelation that would change everything—about my past, about the child I'd lost, and about the two men who had shaped my life in ways I was only beginning to understand.