The Thorne Heiress Unveiling Shadow novel Chapter 86

The name on the screen hung in the air of the car, heavy and cold. Lancaster.

Evelyn watched Kaelen's face. His calm expression broke. She saw the muscles in his jaw tighten. His hands gripped the steering wheel harder. This wasn't the reaction of a man seeing a business rival. This was something else, something deeper.

"Kaelen," she said, her voice cutting through the tense silence. "Why does that name make you look like you've just seen a ghost?"

He didn't answer right away, his eyes still locked on the name as if it were a serpent poised to strike. He put the car in motion, turning away from the university with a decisive, urgent movement. "This is a conversation for a more secure location," he said, his voice grim. "We need to tell your family. Now."

The drive to Thorne Crest was silent, but the silence was heavy with unspoken questions. When they arrived, an emergency meeting was called in the secure command center in the west wing. Arthur, Lillian, and Chase were already there, their faces etched with worry after being summoned with such alarming urgency. They looked from Evelyn's resolute expression to Kaelen's thunderous one and knew something fundamental had changed.

"What is it?" Arthur demanded the moment the secure doors hissed shut. "What did you find?"

Evelyn didn't speak. She walked to the main console and projected the file from her laptop onto the massive screen. It showed the financial network, the hidden accounts, and the final, damning name: CLAUDIA LANCASTER. She then brought up a high-resolution photograph Kaelen's team had just acquired, a recent candid shot of the Duchess at a European opera, her face clear and unveiled.

Lillian gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Chase swore under his breath, recognizing the face from old society pages.

But Arthur Thorne just stared at the screen, his face draining of all color. The confident, powerful patriarch seemed to shrink before their eyes, replaced by a man haunted by a ghost from his past. He sank into a chair, his head in his hands.

"It's my fault," he whispered, his voice choked with a guilt that was almost thirty years old. "All of this… it's my fault."

Lillian rushed to his side. "Arthur, what are you talking about?"

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