Chapter 6: The Vanishing Stepmother**
Arthur bolted down the east wing corridor toward the master bedroom. The heavy oak doors were flung wide open. Inside, jewelry drawers were pulled out onto the Persian rug, velvet cases emptied of their heirloom diamonds and emerald rings.
Victoria was standing by the antique writing desk, hurriedly stuffing passports, bearer bonds, and gold ingots into a black leather duffel bag. When she turned and saw Arthur standing in the doorway, her mask of high-society elegance cracked, revealing the cold, predatory calculation beneath.
"You're making a mistake, Arthur," Victoria said smoothly, not even bothering to feign distress. Her voice had lost all its warmth, replaced by a razor-sharp steel. "Clara is an unstable, senile woman who was obsessed with Eleanor. You believe the ramblings of a domestic servant over your future wife?"
"I saw the prescriptions, Victoria," Arthur said, taking a step inside, his fists clenched tight at his sides. "I saw Eleanor’s diary. And most importantly, I listened to my daughter."
Victoria let out a chilling, melodic laugh that made Arthur’s stomach churn. "Your daughter is half-witted, Arthur. She broke the night Eleanor died. You honestly think a court will take the testimony of a six-year-old with documented psychological trauma against the testimony of a respected philanthropist?"
"I don't need a court to ruin you," Arthur growled. "I own the district attorney’s office, the banks your family owes millions to, and the hospital where your cousin practiced. You will spend the rest of your natural life behind bars."
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Victoria’s eyes narrowed into slits. She slowly reached into her handbag and pulled out a small, nickel-plated revolver. "I don't plan on seeing a courtroom, darling. Step away from the door, or Lily will lose her only remaining parent before sunrise."
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