Eleanor continued.
“This evening is for Ashfords. Not abandoned children collected from the street.”
Several guests gasped.
Charles closed his eyes.
But he said nothing.
That silence was his decision.
I handed Lily to my closest friend, Rachel.
“Stay with her.”
Then I walked toward Eleanor.
She lifted her chin.
“You would be wise to remember where you are.”
“I know exactly where I am.”
“You are standing inside my family’s home.”
“No.”
I stopped in front of her.
“I am standing in front of the woman who just humiliated my daughter.”
Eleanor laughed.
It was small and cruel.
“What are you going to do? Threaten me?”
I grabbed the front of her silk collar and pulled her close.
Her champagne glass slipped from her hand.
It struck the marble floor and shattered.
The orchestra stopped.
Every person in the ballroom turned.
Eleanor’s eyes widened.
“You insane woman! How dare you touch me?”
I did not raise my voice.
I did not shake her.
I simply held her gaze.
“Touch my daughter again, and I will release every document William left me.”
The color disappeared from her face.
“What documents?”
“The accounts in Geneva.”
Her lips parted.
“The payments to Judge Thomas Harrington.”
Her breathing changed.
“And the medical report you paid to have altered the night Lily was born.”
For the first time since I met her, Eleanor Ashford looked afraid.
Not offended.
Not angry.
Afraid.
Charles stepped forward.
“Victoria, let go of her.”
I released Eleanor.
She stumbled back.
“You do not know what you are talking about.”
“I know William spent the final year of his life collecting evidence against you.”
“He was confused before he died.”
“I know he found fourteen years of foundation money transferred into private accounts.”
Guests nearby began murmuring.
Eleanor looked around the room.
“Stop this immediately.”
“I also know the Ashford Foundation paid St. Catherine’s Hospital twenty thousand dollars the night someone abandoned a newborn baby.”
Lily’s silver bracelet felt heavy inside my purse.
William had recognized it shortly before his death.
I had not understood why at the time.
Charles stared at me.
“What does Lily have to do with St. Catherine’s?”
I looked toward my daughter.
She stood beside Rachel, watching us with frightened eyes.
“Your father believed Lily was an Ashford.”
The room became completely silent.
Eleanor shook her head.
“No.”
Charles’s face changed.
“What are you saying?”
“William contacted me six months before he died.”
“That’s impossible. You hadn’t met me yet.”