Chapter 12
While Sarah absorbed the devastating proof of Eleanor’s embezzlement in her private suite, the distant calm of Marshall Manor was suddenly shattered by a muffled crash echoing from the east wing. Dominic froze, his head snapping toward the hallway as the unmistakable sound of breaking porcelain rang out through the floorboards. "Eleanor," Dominic muttered under his breath, realizing that Miller’s containment of the drawing room had just been violently breached. Sarah looked up from the financial audit, her eyes wide with fresh alarm as the reality of the situation fully closed in around them. "She must have realized we found the files," Sarah whispered, clutching the manila folder tightly to her chest like a shield. Dominic stood up immediately, buttoning his dark suit jacket with swift, decisive movements. "Stay here, Sarah. Lock this door behind us and do not open it for anyone except me or Miller," Dominic instructed, his tone brooking no argument. Clara dropped the wool blanket onto the sofa and squared her shoulders, stepping forward to follow him into the corridor. "I'm coming with you, sir. You might need someone who knows the servants' shortcuts," Clara insisted, her voice firm despite the lingering pain in her wrists. Dominic hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding in agreement. Together, they sprinted down the dimly lit hallway toward the east wing, leaving Sarah safely barricaded in her suite. As they approached the double doors of the drawing room, they found Miller standing in the corridor with a grim expression on his weathered face, a splintered wooden tray lying on the floor beside him amidst shattered shards of bone china. "She tried to force her way out, sir," Miller reported quietly, gesturing toward the heavy oak doors. "She threw a vase at me and threatened to burn the entire estate to the ground if she didn't get her passport from the safe." Dominic’s jaw tightened into a hard line of absolute resolve. He motioned for Miller to step aside, reaching out to grasp the brass handle of the drawing room door. The final confrontation with Eleanor was moments away, and there would be no more hiding behind polite society or closed doors.
