Chapter 4
Later that afternoon, the heavy oak doors of the downstairs study offered a deceptive sanctuary from the psychological warfare raging in the kitchen. Elena slipped inside the dimly lit room while Margaret and Daniel were occupied with a hushed, intense phone call in the formal dining room. The air inside the study smelled of old leather, expensive bourbon, and beeswax. Tall mahogany bookshelves lined the walls, filled with heavy legal tomes and family photograph albums.
Elena approached the antique mahogany desk where Daniel conducted his private business. The surface was meticulously organized, featuring a leather blotter, a brass fountain pen set, and a locked brass-trimmed wooden box. Remembering the urgency of the video, she knew the answers she sought were likely hidden within this room. She tested the drawers; the top three slid open smoothly, revealing only standard office supplies and tax documents. The bottom drawer, however, was locked tight.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she scanned the desktop for a hidden key or a combination. Remembering Daniel’s obsessive habits, she lifted a framed photograph of the estate that hung slightly crooked on the wall behind the desk. Behind the heavy wooden frame rested a small, cold iron key. With trembling fingers, she retrieved it and inserted it into the brass lock of the bottom drawer. It turned with a soft, satisfying click.
Inside lay a collection of old journals, a stack of certified medical examiner reports, and a manila folder labeled simply with a name written in elegant cursive: Catherine. Elena’s breath hitched. Catherine. Daniel’s first wife.
She pulled the folder out and opened it beneath the amber glow of the desk lamp. The top document was a police incident report dated four years prior. According to the official narrative, Catherine Oakridge had suffered a fatal fall down the main staircase of the manor during a severe late-night storm. Toxicology screens, however, were conspicuously absent from the file summary. Tucked beneath the report was a handwritten letter from Catherine herself, dated just two days before her death.
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Scanning the frantic handwriting, Elena’s blood ran cold. Catherine wrote that she had discovered illegal financial transactions involving Margaret and Daniel, and that she intended to go to the police. Furthermore, Catherine explicitly stated that if anything happened to her, it was not an accident.
Suddenly, the heavy oak door of the study clicked. The brass knob began to turn slowly. Panic surged through Elena’s veins. She frantically shoved the documents back into the folder, locked the drawer, replaced the key behind the picture frame, and darted toward the heavy velvet curtains just as the door swung open, revealing Daniel standing on the threshold with a dark, suspicious scowl.
