Chapter 7
The morning light broke through the overcast sky, casting a grey, somber hue over the courtyard hydrangeas. Julian had spent the remainder of the night in his study, going over the legal files and the historical maps until his eyes burned with exhaustion. Elena remained locked in the east wing, her defiance hanging over the household like an unexploded ordnance.
Downstairs, Isabella sat at the kitchen island with a large sketchbook spread out before her. She was drawing furiously with colored pencils, her small brow furrowed in concentration. Mrs. Gable stood nearby, pouring a cup of hot chamomile tea and setting it gently beside the girl’s elbow.
"Is your father coming down soon, Izzy?" Mrs. Gable asked softly, glancing toward the grand staircase.
Before Isabella could answer, the heavy front door buzzer chimed—a sharp, jarring sound that cut through the quiet morning. Mrs. Gable exchanged a worried look with the little girl before walking down the foyer toward the entrance. She unlocked the heavy oak door and pulled it open, revealing two figures standing on the stone porch.
The first was Detective Miller, a tired-looking man in a rumpled trench coat with deep circles under his eyes, holding a leather notebook. Beside him stood a young woman in her early twenties, wearing a faded denim jacket and clutching a large canvas tote bag. Her hands were trembling slightly, and she kept glancing nervously over her shoulder at the driveway gates.
"Mrs. Gable?" Detective Miller asked, flashing a worn police badge. "I’m looking for Julian Vance. We received an anonymous tip regarding a disturbance on the property yesterday afternoon."
"Detective," Julian’s voice rang out firmly as he descended the grand staircase, his grey suit jacket neatly pressed despite his sleepless night. He walked briskly across the marble foyer, his eyes fixed on the visitors. "You didn't need to come out here. I was planning to contact the precinct myself this morning."
Detective Miller nodded grimly. "An anonymous call came in through the district attorney's office. It alleged that a child was subjected to coercive labor and psychological intimidation on this estate yesterday. We take those reports very seriously, Mr. Vance."
Julian didn't flinch. He stepped forward and gestured toward the open hallway leading to the security office. "I have the complete security footage from every camera on the property. You can watch the entire incident yourself. But before you do, I want you to talk to the young woman standing beside you."
Julian turned his gaze to the young woman in the denim jacket. Her name tag, half-hidden beneath her lapel, read Maya – Landscape Crew.
Maya swallowed hard, stepping across the threshold into the foyer. She looked over at Isabella, who had wandered out from the kitchen to see who was at the door, clutching her colored pencils like a shield.
"I saw it," Maya said, her voice shaking slightly but carrying a ring of absolute truth. "I was pruning the hedges near the north wall yesterday afternoon when Mrs. Vance made the little girl drag that heavy bag. I tried to walk over and help, but Mrs. Vance told me if I interfered, she’d make sure I was blacklisted from every landscaping firm in the tri-state area. She said the child needed to learn obedience."
Detective Miller opened his leather notebook and clicked his ballpoint pen, his expression hardening. "Thank you, Miss Harrison. That corroborates the tip we received, but it goes further than a simple civil dispute. Coercive abuse of a minor under your roof, Mr. Vance, crosses the line into criminal territory."
"I am fully aware of that, Detective," Julian said, his voice cold and steady. "And I am prepared to cooperate with whatever investigation is required. But there is something else you need to know. My wife didn't just target my daughter yesterday. She is unearthing illegal property transactions and historical fraud tied to this estate—documents that suggest she is positioning herself to seize control of my entire livelihood through extortion."
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Detective Miller paused, looking up from his notes with a sharp, calculating gaze. "Extortion? Mr. Vance, we came here to investigate a child abuse report. Now you’re telling me your wife is running an internal corporate shakedown using family secrets?"
"She isn't just running a shakedown," Julian replied grimly, turning to look back toward the east wing. "She’s preparing for a hostile takeover, and yesterday’s incident in the garden was just her opening salvo."
