Chapter 4: The Shot in the Dark
Chapter 4: The Shot in the Dark
The gunshot echoed through the second floor like a crack of thunder.
For one impossible second, everyone in the hallway froze.
Then I ran.
I did not think about who might be armed.
I did not think about whether the darkness was part of a trap.
I thought only about Clara.
Marcus was two steps behind me.
“Stay back,” he ordered.
I ignored him.
The emergency lights still had not activated.
Only the pale glow from the garden windows gave shape to the staircase.
Security officers raised flashlights and weapons as they followed us upward.
The alarm outside the guest suite had stopped.
That frightened me more than the gunshot.
Alarms were not supposed to stop on their own.
At the top of the stairs, I saw one of the security guards lying near the wall.
His flashlight rolled in a slow circle across the floor.
A dark stain spread beneath his shoulder.
Marcus dropped beside him.
“Davis.”
The guard groaned.
He was alive.
Blood covered the sleeve of his suit.
Marcus pressed two fingers against the man’s neck.
“Shoulder wound.”
He looked at the officer behind him.
“Get Keller.”
Then he turned toward me.
“Do not enter that room.”
The guest suite door stood open.
The darkness beyond it was absolute.
I could hear nothing.
No struggle.
No voices.
No Clara.
I moved forward.
Marcus caught my arm.
“Julian.”
“My wife is in there.”
“And whoever fired may still be inside.”
“I don’t care.”
“You will if you get her killed.”
The words stopped me.
Not because they offended me.
Because they were true.
Marcus signaled to two officers.
One moved to the left side of the doorway.
The other took the right.
A third officer checked the adjoining sitting room.
Marcus raised three fingers.
Then two.
Then one.
The officers entered.
“Clear left.”
“Clear right.”
“Bedroom clear.”
I pushed past Marcus.
The bed was empty.
The blanket had been thrown to the floor.
The IV stand lay overturned.
The line that had been connected to Clara’s arm was stretched across the carpet.
A small drop of blood darkened the end of the needle.
Dr. Keller was on the floor beside the bathroom door.
His glasses were broken.
A thin stream of blood ran from his temple.
I dropped beside him.
“Where is she?”
His eyes fluttered.
“Julian.”
“Where is Clara?”
He tried to lift one hand.
“The wall.”
“What wall?”
He looked toward the old wooden paneling behind the bed.
Marcus crossed the room and pressed against it.
Nothing moved.
He examined the carved trim.
Then he found a narrow seam.
A security officer inserted a metal tool.
The panel shifted inward.
Cold air rushed into the room.
Behind the wall was a passage.
Narrow.
Unlit.
Old.
The floor was marked by two sets of footprints.
One large.
One smaller.
Clara’s.
My heart hammered.
“She walked?”
Dr. Keller struggled to sit up.
“They made her.”
“Who?”
“A man.”
“What man?”
“I couldn’t see his face.”
“Charles?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was there anyone else?”
Dr. Keller swallowed.
“A woman.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“She wore a hood.”
Marcus shone his flashlight into the passage.
The walls were made of brick.
Dust covered the floor except where someone had recently swept a path.
This had not been improvised.
Someone had prepared it.
Someone knew the suite.
Someone knew the hidden passage.
Someone knew exactly where Clara would be placed.
I looked at Marcus.
“How did we miss this?”
“It isn’t on the plans.”
“You said the entire estate was swept.”
“The visible structure was.”
I stepped toward the passage.
Marcus blocked me again.
“Not alone.”
“Then come with me.”
He signaled to three officers.
“Team One enters.”
“Team Two secures the suite.”
“Team Three takes the west corridor.”
He handed me a compact flashlight.
“Stay behind me.”
I took it.
The passage was barely wide enough for one person.
The air smelled of damp stone and old wood.
Pipes ran above our heads.
Some had rusted.
Others had been replaced recently.
Marcus noticed that too.
He touched one of the newer brackets.
“Installed within the last year.”
“So someone has been maintaining this.”
“Yes.”
The passage sloped downward.
Every few feet, small marks had been painted on the wall.
White arrows.
Numbers.
Directions for people who already knew the route.
We passed behind two bedrooms.
Then behind the upper library.
Through gaps in the wall, I could hear the chaos of the house.
Guests shouting downstairs.
Security officers ordering people back into the ballroom.
Someone crying.
Someone demanding a lawyer.
The people in my home had no idea that an entire hidden system ran beside them.
Neither had I.
After twenty yards, Marcus raised his hand.
We stopped.
A faint sound came from ahead.
A metallic tapping.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The silver cane.
Marcus raised his weapon.
The officers behind us did the same.
The tapping stopped.
Then Charles Whitmore’s voice drifted through the darkness.
“You are faster than your father was.”
I stepped forward.
Marcus put one arm across my chest.
“Let her go.”
Charles laughed quietly.
“Still direct.”
“Still impatient.”
“Show yourself.”
A dim light appeared farther down the passage.
Charles stood at a junction where the corridor split in two.
He wore the same dark suit from the kitchen footage.
His silver cane rested in one hand.
The other hand held a small device.
Clara was not beside him.
“Where is she?”
His expression did not change.
“Safe.”
“You drugged her.”
“I kept her manageable.”
“You assaulted her.”
“I never struck her.”
“Someone did.”
“That house is full of weak people who become cruel when they believe they are protected.”
“You were protecting them.”
“I was using them.”
Marcus adjusted his position.
“Put down the device.”
Charles glanced at him.
“Still loyal, Marcus?”
“I have never met you.”
“No.”
“But I know men like you.”
“You think discipline can make up for ignorance.”
Marcus did not react.
Charles looked back at me.
“You have three choices.”
“I only need one.”
I stepped closer.
“You tell me where Clara is.”
“Choice one.”
He raised the device.
“You continue forward.”
“The passage seals.”
“You suffocate before reaching the lower level.”
Marcus looked toward the walls.
He believed Charles.
“Choice two.”
Charles continued.
“You shoot me.”
“My thumb releases this switch.”
“An electrical charge reaches the old fuel lines beneath the east wing.”
The officer behind me whispered a curse.
I stared at the device.
“You’re bluffing.”
“Your father said the same thing once.”
The sentence struck harder than I expected.
“What did you do to him?”
Charles’s face became unreadable.
“Choice three.”
“You return to the ballroom.”
“You listen.”
“And Clara remains alive.”
I wanted to tear the device from his hand.
I wanted to break every finger that had touched her.
But rage did not change the passage around us.
It did not change the possibility of explosives.
It did not bring Clara back.
“Prove she is alive.”
Charles lifted his cane and tapped twice against the wall.
A small screen flickered to life beside him.
Clara appeared.
She sat in a chair in a gray room.
Her hands were still wrapped.
Her head leaned forward.
A man stood behind her.
Only his torso was visible.
He held one hand against her shoulder.
“Clara.”
Her head lifted.
Even through the grainy image, I saw the fear in her eyes.
“Julian?”
“I’m here.”
She looked toward someone offscreen.
“Don’t listen to them.”
The man behind her tightened his grip.
She winced.
I took another step.
Marcus pulled me back.
Charles watched calmly.
“Enough proof?”
“If she is hurt, you die.”
“I am an old man.”
“That threat has less power than you think.”
“Then let me make it specific.”
I looked at the screen.
“Take your hand off her.”
The man did not move.
Charles tilted his head.
“Return to the ballroom.”
“Who is holding her?”
“Someone you trust.”
“Who?”
“Return to the ballroom.”
“Not until you answer.”
He pressed one button on the device.
A heavy grinding sound came from above us.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
The passage behind Charles began closing.
A steel door descended between us.
Marcus raised his weapon.
“Do not shoot,” I said.
The door dropped farther.
Charles’s face disappeared inch by inch.
Before it sealed, he spoke one final sentence.
“Ask Evelyn about the original will.”
The steel door slammed shut.
Silence returned.
Then the small screen beside it went dark.
I rushed forward and struck the metal.
“Charles.”
No answer.
Marcus examined the edges.
“No visible controls.”
“Break it.”
“That could trigger whatever he wired.”
“Then find another route.”
“We need the plans.”
“There are no plans.”
“There are always plans.”
He looked toward the officer behind us.
“Mark this location.”
“Bring thermal imaging.”
“Check the walls for wiring.”
I stared at the door.
Clara had been on the other side only seconds earlier.
Maybe still was.
The image could have been live.
It could have been recorded.
I had no way to know.
Marcus touched my shoulder.
“We have to move.”
“I am not leaving her.”
“We are not leaving her.”
“We are changing position.”
“Charles wants me in the ballroom.”
“Yes.”
“Then that is where the next trap is.”
“Probably.”
“Yet you want me to walk into it.”
“He also wants your attention away from this passage.”
I looked at him.
“So while I listen downstairs, you search.”
“Yes.”
“Can you do it without triggering the fuel lines?”
“I can try.”
The honesty was brutal.
It was also the only answer I trusted.
I looked once more at the steel door.
Then I turned back.
The passage seemed longer on the return.
Every sound from the house felt distant.
Every step took me farther from Clara.
When we reached the guest suite, Dr. Keller was sitting against the bed.
Another physician from Marcus’s team treated his head wound.
The injured guard had been moved.
“How long was I unconscious?” Keller asked.
“Less than ten minutes,” Marcus said.
Keller looked at me.
“Did you find her?”
“No.”
He lowered his eyes.
“I am sorry.”
“What happened?”
He took a breath.
“The power failed.”
“The alarm activated.”
“I went to the door.”
“Davis was already there.”
“Then someone struck me from behind.”
“What did you see?”
“A flash.”
“A black sleeve.”
“I heard a woman whisper.”
“What did she say?”
He closed his eyes, trying to remember.
“She said, ‘He is almost ready.’”
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she sound familiar?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I cannot be certain.”
“Guess.”
Marcus looked at me.
“Julian.”
“No.”
“I need to know.”
Keller rubbed his temple.
“She sounded like Sienna.”
That was possible.
Too possible.
But Sienna had been downstairs under guard.
Unless the blackout had been created to help her escape.
Marcus spoke into his radio.
“Confirm Sienna’s location.”
A response came immediately.
“Ballroom.”
“Visual confirmation?”
A pause.
Then, “Negative.”
“What does that mean?”
“The guards lost sight of her during the blackout.”
My jaw tightened.
“How long?”
“Approximately four minutes.”
“Find her.”
The officers moved.
I left the suite.
The command center across the hall was damaged.
Two monitors had been smashed.
One terminal displayed a red error message.
The main security network was returning in sections.
Camera feeds flickered back one by one.
Marcus approached the lead technician.
“What caused the outage?”
“External override.”
“From where?”
“We are tracing it.”
“Do not say that unless you have a result coming.”
The technician swallowed.
“East wing junction.”
“The hidden network?”
“Partly.”
“Someone used the old line to inject a shutdown sequence.”
“Can they do it again?”
“Not the same way.”
“Can they do it another way?”
“Yes.”
Marcus looked at me.
“We need to assume Charles still has access.”
“Then isolate the house from every external connection.”
“That may shut down some internal systems.”
“Do it.”
The technician disconnected the old line.
Several monitors went black.
Others stabilized.
The estate was now operating on a closed local network.
No internet.
No external communications.
No remote commands.
At least, that was what we hoped.
A voice came through Marcus’s radio.
“We found Sienna.”
“Location?”
“Ballroom balcony.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Bring her down.”
I started toward the stairs.
Marcus stayed behind.
“Where are you going?”
“To ask about the original will.”
He looked at me.
“Do not believe anything Evelyn says without verification.”
“I stopped believing her years ago.”
“No.”
“You stopped trusting her tonight.”
“There is a difference.”
He was right.
I had spent years recognizing my mother’s manipulations.
I had simply believed they had limits.
Tonight had taught me otherwise.
I entered the ballroom through the side door.
The guests were no longer seated calmly.
They stood in groups.
Several were arguing with security.
Others demanded medical attention.
My mother remained at the front table.
She had moved her chair so she could see every entrance.
Uncle Richard sat several feet away from her now.
Aunt Lorraine had stopped crying.
She watched Evelyn with open fear.
Nathan stared at the floor.
Sienna stood on the balcony above the ballroom.
Two guards escorted her down the stairs.
Her dress was torn at one shoulder.
A thin cut ran across her cheek.
She looked genuinely frightened.
I stopped in front of her.
“Where were you?”
“Someone pulled me through the service door.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You disappeared during the blackout.”
“I was attacked.”
“Convenient.”
Her eyes widened.
“You think I took Clara?”
“Dr. Keller heard your voice.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because I was downstairs.”
“You were missing for four minutes.”
“I was dragged upstairs.”
“By whom?”
“I couldn’t see.”
She held out her wrist.
A red mark circled it.
Someone had bound her.
Or she had created the mark herself.
Marcus came through the ballroom doors.
He looked at Sienna’s wrist.
Then at the tear in her dress.
He did not comment.
I turned toward my mother.
“Charles told me to ask about the original will.”
A visible reaction moved through the room.
Uncle Richard looked up.
Aunt Lorraine gripped the edge of the table.
My mother’s expression remained calm.
“What original will?”
“My father’s.”
“There was one will.”
“Charles says otherwise.”
“Charles lies.”
“So do you.”
Her jaw tightened.
I stepped closer.
“What did my father leave Clara?”
Several people whispered.
My mother looked at them.
Then back at me.
“Nothing.”
“Her name is in the family trust.”
“You saw a fragment of paper on a hacked screen.”
“You recognized it.”
“I recognized a forgery.”
“Why did you try to stop the video?”
“Because Charles enjoys creating confusion.”
“Then clear it up.”
She folded her hands.
“Your father amended his will shortly before his death.”
“What amendment?”
“He removed certain beneficiaries.”
“Which beneficiaries?”
“He did not tell me.”
“But you knew Clara was one of them.”
My mother said nothing.
I leaned closer.
“Did my father know Clara before I met her?”
“Yes.”
The answer came from behind me.
I turned.
Aunt Lorraine was standing.
Her face had gone pale.
My mother looked at her.
“Sit down.”
Lorraine shook her head.
“No.”
“Sit down.”
“You said this would never happen.”
Evelyn’s voice dropped.
“What did I say?”
Lorraine began trembling.
“You said the original papers were gone.”
“They are.”
“Charles says they are not.”
“Charles is manipulating everyone.”
Lorraine looked at me.
“Your father knew Clara’s mother.”
The ballroom became silent.
“How?”
“They grew up in the same town.”
“Where?”
“Millbrook, Ohio.”
Clara had told me her mother grew up near Dayton.
Not Millbrook.
Or perhaps I had never asked closely enough.
“What was her name?”
Lorraine looked at Evelyn.
My mother’s eyes warned her again.
Lorraine answered anyway.
“Rose Bennett.”
I knew the name.
Clara kept a photograph of Rose in our bedroom.
She had died when Clara was seventeen.
“What did my father have to do with Rose?”
Lorraine’s breathing quickened.
“They were close.”
“How close?”
“Lorraine,” my mother said.
The single word carried a threat.
Lorraine turned toward her.
“You let them drug that girl.”
“You let them make her think she was losing her mind.”
My mother’s expression hardened.
“And you ate her food.”
Lorraine flinched.
“That is why I am speaking now.”
“You are speaking because you are afraid.”
“Yes.”
Lorraine looked back at me.
“I am afraid.”
“I should have been afraid years ago.”
“Tell me what happened.”
She wiped tears from her face.
“Rose worked for your father when he was young.”
“What kind of work?”
“She kept records.”
“Private records.”
“For his first company.”
“My father did not have a company before Vale Meridian.”
“Yes, he did.”
My mother stood.
“That is enough.”
“No,” Lorraine said.
“You do not get to decide that anymore.”
The room watched them.
The family hierarchy was breaking in front of everyone.
For decades, my mother’s authority had depended on obedience.
The moment one person refused, others began to remember they had voices too.
“What company?” I asked.
Lorraine looked at me.
“Meridian Foundry.”
The name meant nothing at first.
Then I remembered old documents in my father’s library.
Shipping ledgers.
Industrial patents.
A fire.
A company dissolved before I was born.
“What happened to it?”
Lorraine stared at the floor.
“There was an accident.”
“What kind?”
“A laboratory fire.”
“People died.”
“How many?”
“Four.”
“Was Rose there?”
“Yes.”
“Did she die?”
“No.”
“She survived.”
“What did she know?”
Lorraine looked at my mother again.
Evelyn’s face had become stone.
“She knew the fire was not an accident.”
A murmur spread through the ballroom.
My father had built his public reputation on discipline and integrity.
The idea that his first company had been connected to a fatal crime would have destroyed him.
“What caused it?”
“I do not know.”
“That is a lie.”
“I truly do not know.”
“Then what did Rose know?”
“She knew who ordered the evidence removed.”
“Who?”
Lorraine swallowed.
“Your father.”
The answer hit me harder than any accusation that night.
I shook my head.
“No.”
“I am sorry.”
“My father was difficult.”
“He was controlling.”
“But he was not a murderer.”
“I did not say he caused the fire.”
“You said he destroyed evidence.”
“He protected someone.”
“Who?”
Lorraine looked at Evelyn.
My mother smiled faintly.
It was the same smile she used when she believed she had already won.
I understood before Lorraine spoke.
“He protected your mother.”
The ballroom erupted.
People shouted.
Uncle Richard stood.
Nathan backed away from Evelyn as though she carried a disease.
Sienna covered her mouth.
My mother did not deny it.
She simply looked at me.
“You have no idea what happened.”
“Then tell me.”
“It was thirty years ago.”
“Four people died.”
“And ten thousand people kept their jobs because your father made a difficult decision.”
“What decision?”
“To save the company.”
“By hiding evidence?”
“By refusing to let one mistake destroy hundreds of families.”
“Your mistake?”
She stared at me.
I knew the answer.
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
I stepped back.
For the first time in my life, my mother looked old.
Not weak.
But worn by a secret she had carried too long.
“What did you do?”
“I authorized a test.”
“What kind of test?”
“A chemical process.”
“It was supposed to increase output.”
“Was it safe?”
“At the time, we believed it was.”
“Who is we?”
“Your father.”
“Charles.”
“Rose.”
“Others.”
“Then why did Rose threaten you?”
“Because after the fire, she found the original safety report.”
“What did it say?”
“That the process was unstable.”
“And you used it anyway.”
My mother lifted her chin.
“We were young.”
“We were desperate.”
“We had debts.”
“We had contracts.”
“That does not explain four dead people.”
“No.”
Her voice remained steady.
“It explains the choice.”
I stared at her.
There was no remorse.
Only justification.
“What did Rose do with the report?”
“She gave it to your father.”
“And he destroyed it?”
“No.”
My mother looked toward the ballroom screen.
“He hid it.”
“Where?”
“I never found out.”
“Charles did?”
“Possibly.”
“Why was Clara in the trust?”
“Because Rose demanded protection for her daughter.”
A cold silence spread through me.
“My father paid Clara’s family.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To keep Rose quiet?”
“At first.”
The phrase at first mattered.
“What changed?”
My mother looked away.
For the first time, the answer seemed to cost her something.
“Thomas grew attached to Rose.”
“As a friend?”
She did not answer.
The room understood.
I felt sick.
“Was Clara his daughter?”
Sienna gasped.
Uncle Richard whispered something under his breath.
Aunt Lorraine began crying again.
My mother looked directly at me.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because Rose was already pregnant when she began working for us.”
“Who was Clara’s father?”
“I do not know.”
“Did my father know?”
“Perhaps.”
“Did he put Clara in the trust because he felt guilty?”
“Partly.”
“What was the other reason?”
My mother’s silence returned.
I stepped closer.
“What did Rose give him?”
“She had copies.”
“Of the safety report?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Financial records.”
“Whose?”
My mother looked around the room.
Then she spoke more quietly.
“Charles’s.”
That changed everything.
“What financial records?”
“Transfers.”
“Shell companies.”
“Political payments.”
“Insurance fraud.”
“Charles had been stealing from Meridian Foundry before the fire.”
“Did he cause it?”
“We never proved that.”
“But you suspected him.”
“Yes.”
“Then why work with him now?”
My mother’s mouth tightened.
“Because he had the only evidence that could destroy us.”
“So you let him fake his death.”
“Yes.”
“You helped him disappear.”
“Yes.”
“You let him return to my home.”
“I did not invite him here.”
“Do not lie to me again.”
“I did not.”
For the first time, I believed that part.
Her fear during the live feed had been real.
Charles was not merely her ally.
He was controlling her too.
“What did he want from Clara?”
“The trust.”
“What about it?”
“Rose created a condition.”
“What condition?”
“If certain evidence ever surfaced, control of the protected assets would transfer to Clara.”
“What protected assets?”
My mother hesitated.
“Vale Meridian voting shares.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“How many?”
“Twenty-six percent.”
I stared at her.
That amount could determine control of the company.
Combined with my holdings, Clara and I would have absolute authority.
Separated from me, Clara could become the deciding vote.
If I died, she could control everything.
If she were declared incompetent, whoever held her medical and legal authority could control those shares for her.
My mother had forced Clara to sign away her rights.
Charles had forged my transfer.
They were not merely stealing money.
They were attempting to seize Vale Meridian.
I looked toward Sienna.
“You knew.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Not all of it.”
“How much?”
“Mom said Clara had inherited shares.”
“She said Clara was unstable.”
“She said the company needed protection.”
“So you drugged her.”
“I gave her what I was told was medication.”
“You forced it into her mouth.”
Sienna began crying.
“I thought it would calm her.”
“You recorded her afterward.”
“Mom said we needed proof.”
“Proof you manufactured.”
“I did not understand.”
“No.”
“You chose not to understand.”
She covered her face.
My mother looked at her with disgust.
“Stop crying.”
Sienna lowered her hands slowly.
Something changed in her expression.
Years of fear turned into anger.
“You said no one would hurt her.”
Evelyn did not answer.
“You said Julian would sign.”
“You said Clara would go to a private clinic for a few weeks.”
“You said that once the transfer was complete, everyone would be safe.”
“I said what was necessary.”
Sienna stared at her.
“Charles took her.”
“You do not know that.”
“I heard his cane outside the pantry.”
My attention sharpened.
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
“Why didn’t you say that?”
“Because Mom told me he could not be here.”
Evelyn’s face tightened.
Sienna continued.
“He came through the back corridor.”
“He asked whether the lower room was ready.”
“What lower room?”
“The one beneath the east wing.”
“What did he put there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you see Clara taken?”
“No.”
“But I saw someone else.”
“Who?”
Sienna looked toward Nathan.
Nathan stepped back.
“What?”
She pointed at him.
“He was in the service passage during the blackout.”
Every person in the room turned.
Nathan’s face went white.
“That is a lie.”
“I saw you.”
“You were the one who disappeared.”
“You grabbed me.”
“No.”
“You pulled me through the service door.”
Nathan shook his head violently.
“She is trying to blame me.”
I walked toward him.
“Where were you during the blackout?”
“In the ballroom.”
“Who saw you?”
He looked around.
No one answered.
“I was here.”
“Then prove it.”
“I do not have to prove anything.”
Marcus entered the ballroom again.
He held a small object sealed in a clear bag.
A gold cuff link.
Nathan looked at it.
His face collapsed.
Marcus raised the bag.
“We found this in the hidden passage outside Clara’s room.”
The cuff link bore the initials N.V.
Nathan Vale.
My cousin looked toward the exits.
Security moved in.
He backed into a table.
“I can explain.”
“Do it.”
“I did not take her.”
“Then why were you in the passage?”
He looked at my mother.
She gave him nothing.
He looked at Sienna.
She stared back with hatred.
Finally, he looked at me.
“Charles made me.”
“How?”
“He has records.”
“What records?”
“Financial records.”
“You have no finances.”
He flinched.
“I borrowed money.”
“From whom?”
“Company vendors.”
“You took bribes.”
“I was going to pay it back.”
“How much?”
“Three million.”
The room erupted again.
I did not look away from him.
“What did Charles want?”
“He wanted access.”
“To the house?”
“Yes.”
“The security system?”
“Yes.”
“You gave it to him?”
“Only older codes.”
“He had current access.”
“I did not know.”
“What did you do during the blackout?”
Nathan began crying.
“I opened the panel behind the guest suite.”
My stomach turned.
“Who came through?”
“A man.”
“Charles?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“I could not see his face.”
“That is not good enough.”
“He wore a mask.”
“Was Clara conscious?”
“Barely.”
“Did you touch her?”
“I helped carry her.”
I moved before I knew I had decided to.
My fist struck his face.
Nathan fell across the table.
Glasses shattered.
Security rushed forward.
Marcus caught my arm before I could hit him again.
Nathan groaned on the floor.
Blood ran from his nose.
“You carried my wife into that passage.”
“I am sorry.”
“You are not sorry.”
“You are afraid.”
He covered his face.
“I did not know they would hurt her.”
“You saw what they had already done.”
“I thought they were sending her away.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who was the masked man?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he say?”
Nathan hesitated.
“What did he say?”
“He said the will had been found.”
The room fell silent.
My mother looked up sharply.
“What will?”
Nathan wiped blood from his mouth.
“The original one.”
“Who found it?” I asked.
“He did not say.”
“Where is it?”
“He said it was being brought to the estate.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Marcus’s radio crackled.
He listened.
Then he looked toward me.
“A vehicle is approaching the front gate.”
“Who?”
“Black sedan.”
“No plates.”
“Driver is requesting entry.”
“What name?”
Marcus’s expression changed.
“He says he is Daniel Mercer.”
My father’s original estate lawyer.
The man who had vanished after Charles Whitmore’s supposed death.
My mother stood.
“No.”
Her voice carried more fear than it had all night.
“Do not let him inside.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“He is not who he says he is.”
Marcus listened again.
“The driver says he has a sealed document.”
“What document?”
“The final will and testament of Thomas Vale.”
The ballroom doors remained locked.
Outside, engines approached the front drive.
Then every light in the house flickered once.
The ballroom screen turned on by itself.
Charles Whitmore appeared again.
This time, he was smiling.
May you like
“Excellent,” he said.
“Now that all the pieces are in place, we can begin.”
