Chapter 6
The afternoon rain drummed a steady, hypnotic rhythm against the living room windows as Amy folded a basket of freshly laundered baby clothes. The house was peaceful, the baby napping soundly in the bassinet beside her. The confrontation with Arthur Vance was still unknown to her, but she could feel the atmospheric pressure of Helen’s retaliation closing in like a gathering storm. When the doorbell rang, sharp and persistent, Amy froze. Connor was still downtown, and they weren't expecting any deliveries.
She walked slowly to the front door, peering through the small glass peephole. Standing on the porch, drenched by the rain despite a heavy umbrella, was a woman she hadn’t seen in over three years—Sarah, Helen’s former personal assistant who had mysteriously resigned overnight without explanation.
Amy hesitated for a moment before unlocking the deadbolt and pulling the door open. Sarah looked pale, her eyes darting nervously up and down the quiet suburban street before she stepped uninvited into the foyer, folding her dripping umbrella with trembling hands.
"Sarah? What are you doing here?" Amy asked, her voice laced with caution as she closed the door against the damp chill. "How did you even find this address?"
"I’ve been watching the house for two days, waiting for Connor to leave," Sarah whispered, her chest heaving slightly as she tried to catch her breath. She clutched a worn leather briefcase tightly against her chest like a shield. "Amy, I shouldn't be here. If Helen finds out I talked to you, she will ruin me. She’s already tried twice since I quit."
"Why did you quit, Sarah?" Amy asked, stepping back to let the younger woman into the warmth of the living room. "One day you were running her entire social calendar, and the next you vanished."
Sarah sank onto the edge of the sofa, her gaze fixed on the floorboards. "Because I found something in the private ledger at the estate office. Something I wasn't supposed to see." She looked up, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and lingering guilt. "It’s about Connor. And about you, Amy. Specifically, about the circumstances surrounding your marriage and the trusts set up after your parents passed away."
Amy’s breath caught in her throat. The mention of her parents—who had died in a tragic car accident just months before she met Connor—sent a cold shiver down her spine. "My parents' estate was settled years ago. Everything was handled by Helen’s legal team."
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"That’s what you were told," Sarah said bitterly, unzipping the briefcase with shaking fingers. She pulled out a thick manila folder filled with photocopied bank statements, legal addendums, and signed agreements bearing Helen’s immaculate cursive signature. "Your parents didn't just leave a modest inheritance, Amy. They left a multi-million-dollar trust tied to family land. Helen didn't rescue you when you were grieving and alone. She engineered your meeting with Connor. She orchestrated the entire courtship to ensure your inheritance was quietly absorbed into the family holding company before you ever realized what you signed."
The room seemed to tilt on its axis. Amy stared at the papers in Sarah’s hands, the pieces of her life clicking together into a terrifying, manipulative mosaic. Every gesture of kindness Helen had ever shown her, every tailored dress, every piece of advice—it had all been part of an elaborate acquisition strategy.
