Chapter 5
The digital clock on the bedside table read 2:14 AM. Lily was sleeping peacefully now, her breathing deep and even under the watchful care of Dr. Hayes, who had finally stepped out to grab a fresh cup of coffee. Clara sat in the armchair beside the bed, staring into the dark corner of the room.
The door creaked open, and Evelyn slipped inside, closing it silently behind her. She looked exhausted, her white suit jacket draped over her arm, revealing a simple silk blouse underneath. Evelyn pulled a chair close to Clara and sat down without a word.
"Arthur has Marcus locked in the library," Evelyn whispered, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the sleeping child. "Marcus is spinning theories, trying to pin the wax incident on outside contractors or, failing that, on us."
Clara turned her gaze from Lily to Evelyn. For the first time, she noticed the faint bruising along Evelyn’s wrist—an old injury, likely hidden beneath long sleeves for months. "Marcus is protecting Julian," Clara said flatly. "He always has. But Julian didn't have the technical know-how to tamper with the automated floor-waxing system. Elena did."
"Elena is a pawn," Evelyn replied, shaking her head. "A dangerous, narcissistic pawn, but a pawn nonetheless. Someone gave her the green light. Someone told her that breaking Clara’s spirit—or breaking her child—would destabilize the succession vote next Tuesday."
Clara felt a cold shudder run down her spine. "The succession vote. That’s what this is all about. Arthur is stepping down as CEO, and the board is choosing between Julian and Marcus."
"And by extension, us," Evelyn added bitterly. "If Julian takes the helm, I’m entirely cut out of the international holdings. If Marcus wins, Julian loses his corporate standing, and he takes it out on me behind closed doors." Evelyn paused, her eyes welling with sudden, restrained tears. She quickly blinked them away, refusing to let grief compromise her focus. "We need to find out what Marcus and Arthur are hiding in that library safe."
Clara looked at Evelyn with newfound respect. The woman sitting across from her wasn't just a wealthy socialite; she was a survivor plotting her escape, much like Clara herself.
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"The safe combination is tied to Arthur’s shipping manifest dates," Clara whispered, leaning closer. "I saw him type it in once when I delivered the quarterly audit reports. But the library is guarded by Arthur’s private detail. We can't just walk in."
"We don't walk in," Evelyn said, a faint, dangerous smile touching the corners of her lips. "We create a distraction that pulls Arthur and Marcus out of the East Wing entirely."
