Chapter 12
The heavy iron gates of the estate swung open with a slow, ominous groan, allowing the black SUVs to rumble up the long, winding gravel driveway. Inside the dark cargo hold of the transport vehicle, Elena sat bound to a metal bench, her wrists secured with heavy zip-ties. Beside her, David was slumped against the partition, nursing a bruised jaw from the rough apprehension in the woods.
The vehicle came to a sudden, jarring halt. A moment later, the rear doors were thrown open, and the harsh glare of the midday sun flooded the interior. Margaret stood on the stone portico of the mansion, draped in an emerald green satin gown that seemed almost absurdly formal for the grim atmosphere. Her heavy pearl necklace caught the light as she watched the guards haul Elena and David out into the open courtyard.
Elena stumbled slightly on the gravel, but she quickly righted herself, refusing to show any sign of weakness. Her red velvet gown was torn at the hem, and her hair, once neatly styled, fell in loose waves around her shoulders. Yet, her eyes burned with an unyielding intensity.
"Bring them inside the grand parlor," Margaret commanded, her voice cutting through the crisp afternoon air like shards of glass. "We are going to settle this once and for all."
They were marched through the massive oak front doors and down the familiar, vaulted corridors until they reached the grand parlor. The room was dominated by a roaring fireplace and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes. A small round wooden side table—identical to the one destroyed during the gala—sat in the corner, though this one held crystal decanters of amber scotch instead of champagne.
Margaret swept into the room, taking a seat in a high-backed velvet armchair by the fire. She crossed her hands over her lap, her emerald gown pooling around her feet like dark water. Arthur walked in behind them, locking the heavy double doors with a satisfying click.
"You have caused us an incredible amount of trouble, Elena," Margaret said, her voice deceptively calm, like the surface of deep, freezing water. "You crept into our lives, earned our trust, and then tried to tear down everything my family spent generations building."
"Your family built an empire on fraud, extortion, and ruined lives," Elena fired back, stepping forward despite the guards holding her arms. "It wasn't an empire. It was a criminal enterprise disguised as high society."
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Margaret’s eyes flashed with venom. She stood up abruptly, leaning over the carved mahogany table. "You foolish girl! You think a few digital files are going to save you? Arthur, show her what happens to trespassers who refuse to cooperate."
Arthur stepped forward, his face twisting into an ugly scowl. He reached out to grab Elena by the throat once more, mirroring his violent action from the ballroom. But before his fingers could close around her skin, the heavy wooden double doors of the parlor suddenly burst inward with an explosive crash.
