11. Beyond the Grave
Chapter eleven
Beyond the Grave
The wind tore across the Vandeveer family cemetery, cutting into my exposed cheeks and whipping loose strands of blonde hair across my eyes.
I stood at the foot of Pieter Vandeveer’s massive marble headstone, my leather boots planted on the frozen, dead grass.
I clutched a bouquet of white lilies in my gloved hands.
The heavy floral scent clashed with the sterile bite of the winter air.
“Never bleed for someone who holds the knife,” I remembered my father warning me.
I stared at the chiseled letters of his name.
Pieter built his empire by crushing anyone who tried to leverage his weaknesses.
I spent years resenting his paranoia, assuming he was just a cold, untrusting man.
Now, flanked by my husband and my mother, I swallowed the bitter irony.
He was right about Lavinia. He was right about all of it.
I shifted my weight, preparing to lower myself to the ground.
“I can manage, Tobias,” I muttered to the winter air as my knees popped.
I ignored his looming presence and sank toward the frozen dirt. The third-trimester weight of the baby pulled me forward. I braced one leather glove against the smooth, biting edge of the marble marker to steady myself. I placed the lilies at the base of the stone.
Before I could gather my balance to stand, a gloved hand clamped around my elbow.
I braced against the sudden grip. I bit the inside of my cheek, suppressing the urge to rip my arm out of his grasp. I let Tobias haul me back to my feet. He adjusted his hold, pulling me flush against his side.
“Careful, sweetheart,” Tobias murmured, his breath a white cloud in the icy air. “The ground is frozen, I don’t want you slipping. Let me help you up.”
I leaned against him, playing the exhausted, fragile heiress he required me to be.
His cologne choked me. I looked back down at the white lilies resting against the chiseled stone, cementing my vow to the ruthless man buried beneath us.
I was about to use the very fortune he built to trap them both.
“Thank you, Tobias,” I whispered, letting my voice waver. “I just… I know he had his faults, but I needed to see him today. With the baby coming so soon.”
Lavinia stepped closer, her expensive cashmere scarf fluttering in the wind. She reached out and patted my shoulder.
“It’s perfectly natural to miss your father, darling,” Lavinia said, her tone bright and rehearsed. “He would be so proud of you.”
Richard’s leather shoes crunched on the gravel path. I turned my head, watching an older couple in tailored winter coats navigate the uneven terrain toward a neighboring mausoleum.
“Is that Eleanor?” Tobias muttered, keeping his gaze fixed on my father’s headstone.
Lavinia smoothed the front of her coat, stepping into my line of sight. “Yes, and Richard. Stand up straight, Tobias.”
The woman spotted my mother through the barren trees and changed direction. Her face settled into an expression of polite, practiced sorrow.
“Richard, Eleanor,” Lavinia greeted them, pitching her voice into a somber murmur.
She crowded my left side, boxing me in. Tobias immediately shifted his stance to block my path. His arm slid from my elbow to wrap tight around my waist, keeping me pinned between his thick wool overcoat and my mother’s cashmere scarf.
I stiffened under the heavy weight of his arm. I folded my gloved hands over my stomach, enduring the scratchy fabric pressing against my shoulder. It sickened me how easy it was for them. One second they were impatient to leave, and the next they were the picture of a devoted, traumatized family.
The couple stopped on the frosted grass in front of us. Richard offered a solemn nod, folding his hands together.
“Lavinia, Tobias… we were devastated to hear about what happened,” Eleanor said. Her gaze dropped straight to my stomach, lingering there with naked pity. “Cecilia, dear, you are in all of our prayers.”
I kept my eyes downcast, staring at the toes of Richard’s leather shoes. The wind bit at my neck, but the stifling heat of my betrayers pressing in on me was far worse.
“Thank God you have your family to lean on,” Eleanor added.
Tobias squeezed my waist—a sharp, silent warning to play along.
“Thank you, Richard,” Tobias said, projecting a hushed, protective tone. “It has been a nightmare, but I am keeping my girls safe now. That’s all that matters.”
He stroked my arm. The friction of his leather glove against my sleeve made my stomach turn. I let my posture slacken, leaning my weight into the trap. I pressed my face into the lapel of his coat. I gave the onlookers exactly what they expected—a terrified heiress clinging to her husband.
“They have been my rocks,” I whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without them.”
Their footsteps crunched along the gravel path.
I stared straight ahead, tracking the couple’s progress across the dead grass.
They passed a long row of granite markers, their coats flapping in the breeze.
The rhythmic thud of their footsteps echoed across the frost until the noise vanished.
They rounded the corner of a massive stone mausoleum, finally leaving us alone.
Tobias shifted his weight. He loosened his possessive grip on my waist, taking a half-step back. “They’re gone,” he murmured, pulling the collar of his wool overcoat up against his neck to block the chill. “We should get you back to the car before you freeze out here.”
I stayed planted on the frost-covered grass. My folded hands slid away from the swell beneath my maternity coat. “Wait,” I whispered, my voice intentionally fragile. “Just a second.”
Tobias paused, grinding the heel of his polished shoe against the frost. He released an exasperated sigh, disguised as a deep breath. “Cecilia, the wind is picking up.”
Lavinia moved to my other side, her boots crunching over the frost. She rubbed her arms, shivering beneath her designer layers. “Tobias is right, darling. Your father’s memorial will still be here tomorrow. Let’s head back.”
They wanted to leave. Without an audience to impress, their patience for me was already gone.
It was the perfect opening. I needed them to believe the terror was genuine to set the hook.
I forced myself to remember the warehouse, focusing on the agonizing burn of my closing throat and the damp concrete floor.
I chewed the inside of my lip until a stinging tear spilled over and tracked down my wind-chilled face. I allowed my weight to shift forward, forcing a slight stumble.
Tobias rushed into my path to catch me. I reached out with both hands and seized the lapels of his overcoat.
The rough, scratchy wool dragged against the leather of my gloves.
I bunched the expensive fabric into my fists, clinging to his chest. I looked frantically back and forth between his face and my mother’s gray eyes.
“Tobias… Mom… standing here, looking at his grave, I can’t stop thinking about it.” I drew in a ragged, stuttering breath, burying my face against the knot of his silk tie. “About how easily I could have died in that warehouse.”
Lavinia closed the distance, her cashmere scarf whipping over her shoulder. She reached out and patted my arm, her rings pressing through my sleeve. “Oh, stop it right now,” she scolded, piling on the fake maternal warmth. “You are safe. You are not going to die.”
I tightened my grip on the wool, digging my knuckles into his chest. I locked my gaze on Tobias, forcing my eyes wide to sell the panic. “But I could!” I cried, letting the act escalate into a sob. “And I’m about to give birth.”
I paused, letting the silence hang between us to make sure they bought the performance entirely. “Women still die in childbirth,” I continued, making my voice crack on the final word. “And if something happens to me… the baby will be left with nothing. The trust guardrails are too strict.”
I released the wool of Tobias’s coat, uncurling my fingers from his lapels. I stepped backward, staggering slightly to keep the panic looking authentic. My boot caught on the uneven edge of the frozen grass. I stumbled until my back collided with my father’s headstone.
The freezing cold of the marble seeped through the thick layers of my maternity coat. I leaned my weight against the stone, using the cold surface as a physical brace.
Lavinia stepped forward, shaking her head. “Cecilia, don’t talk like that.” She desperately tried to keep her tone bright and maternal. “You’re upsetting yourself over nothing.”
I ignored the reprimand, focusing on Tobias. He stood a few feet away, watching me with polite concern. I kept my voice high and desperate, handing him the exact leverage he needed to feel like the smartest man in the cemetery.
“I want to draft a new Baby Trust,” I told him, wiping a gloved hand under my eye. “I want to legally name the two of you as the sole trustees. If I don’t make it out of that delivery room, I need to know you have the money to protect our baby.”
Lavinia gasped. The sound cut through the winter wind.
Tobias went still. The act of the devoted, hovering husband slipped for a split second.
He stared at me, the raw opportunism gleaming clear and bright in his green eyes.
I had just offered him the Vandeveer empire.
The guardrails my father spent decades building to keep men like Tobias away from the fortune were about to be dismantled by my own hand.
Tobias and Lavinia exchanged a silent look. I caught the brief, telling shift in their gazes. They were already doing the math. They were already spending the millions.
Tobias blinked, hiding the greed. He stepped closer to the headstone, resting his hands on my shoulders.
“Cecilia, you don’t need to do this,” Tobias said. His voice was calm, laced with the fake chivalry he reserved for the country club. “You are perfectly healthy.”
I tilted my head back against the marble, looking up at him. “Please, Tobias,” I pleaded, pushing the performance as far as it would go to guarantee the trap snapped shut. “I won’t be able to sleep until I know it’s legally binding. Promise me we can start the proceedings today.”
Lavinia closed the short distance between us.
Tobias dropped his hands as she threw her arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a crushing embrace.
Her pristine designer coat bunched against my thick maternity layers.
The swell of my stomach wedged between us, but she ignored the physical barrier, squeezing my ribs.
The cloying, artificial sweetness of her signature floral perfume flooded my senses, overpowering the crisp winter air.
I endured the suffocating weight of her arms.
“If it will bring you peace of mind, darling, of course we will do it,” Lavinia murmured into my ear. Her rings clicked against the fabric of my sleeve as she patted my back. She slipped into her devoted mother routine with seamless ease. “We would do absolutely anything for you.”
I raised my arms. I rested my hands flat against her spine.
The abrasive wool of her coat scratched against my leather gloves.
I did not match the pressure of her hug.
I held my body stiff, enduring the suffocating charade without giving her an inch of real affection in return.
Behind my closed eyes, my cold certainty settled into place.
She believed she had just won the ultimate prize.
Lavinia finally pulled back. I opened my eyes as Tobias stepped forward, crowding my remaining space. He reached out and wrapped his long fingers around my wrist.
“Let’s get you back to the car,” Tobias said, his voice dropping into an artificially soothing murmur. “You’re shivering against that stone, and the wind is picking up.”
He lifted my hand toward his face. He pressed his lips against the back of my leather glove. The damp heat of his breath warmed the leather, seeping into my cold knuckles. A fresh wave of nausea hit me. I let my hand rest limp in his grip, giving him the helpless submission he expected.
He lowered my hand, but he did not release his hold on my wrist. I saw the unmistakable shift in his green eyes. The sheer greed radiated from him.
“I’ll call Helen Caldwell’s office from the car,” Tobias told me, effortlessly projecting smooth reassurance. “I will have her draft the paperwork. We’ll sign it together.”
The prospect of unchecked access to the Vandeveer fortune blinded him to the trap.
He was convinced he had just conned a terrified, grieving woman into dismantling the empire my father built.
I let my forehead drop against Tobias’s chest. I stared blankly at the dark wool of his lapel, focusing my mind on the countdown to my delivery date.
“Thank you,” I whispered. I muffled my voice against his heavy overcoat, forcing a helpless tremor into the words. “I knew I could count on you.”
The winter wind howled across the cemetery. It stung my exposed skin, but I did not pull away. I closed my eyes and stood rigid, buried in the arms of the people plotting my murder.