Chapter 7: Stand-off in the Study**
The click of the revolver’s hammer echoed like a gunshot in the silent master suite.
Arthur did not flinch. "You shoot me in this house, and every guard on the estate perimeter will lock down the gates before you make it to the driveway. You'll die in an iron cage."
"They work for your money, Arthur. Once you're dead, I am the sole executor of Eleanor’s estate and Lily’s legal guardian," Victoria sneered, her finger tightening against the trigger. "A tragic accident. An unstable widower confronted by his grief... a struggle over a firearm. I’ve written better scripts in my sleep."
Before she could squeeze the trigger, a loud crash echoed from the hallway.
Clara charged through the doorway, brandishing the heavy sterling silver platter like a shield. With a desperate cry born of two decades of protective fury, the 55-year-old maid lunged forward.
*BANG!*
The gunshot tore through the quiet mansion. The bullet struck the center of the heavy silver platter with a deafening metallic clang, ricocheting harmlessly into the ceiling plaster. The impact sent a shockwave through Clara’s arms, but the momentum of her charge threw Victoria violently against the mahogany desk.
The gun flew from Victoria’s grip, skittering across the polished floorboards.
Arthur moved with lightning speed, pinning Victoria against the desk and twisting her arms behind her back until she cried out in pain. Within seconds, Marcus, the estate’s burly head driver and former military veteran, burst into the room with two armed security guards.
"Secure her," Arthur ordered between ragged breaths. "Call the state police and the chief of detectives immediately. Give them the safe in the study—every ledger, vial, and journal inside."
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As the guards dragged Victoria away, screaming profanities into the night, Arthur turned to Clara. The older woman was slumped against the wall, clutching her bruised wrist, the dented silver platter resting at her feet.
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