Chapter 11 - The Secret Safe
Eleanor stepped further into the dark study, her posture radiating an eerie, unshakeable confidence that made Julian’s blood run cold.
"Where are the guards?" Julian demanded, keeping his body positioned protectively between Eleanor and the armchair where Clara sat trembling. "How did you possibly make bail within three hours?"
"My legal team has been preparing for this contingency since before you were even born, Julian," Eleanor replied smoothly, her cold blue eyes scanning the room until they locked onto the silver flash drive resting on the mahogany desk. "Drop the briefcase, Julian. And step away from the desk."
Sarah struggled against the two security guards in the hallway, her breath coming in sharp gasps. "Don't do it, Julian! She's bluffing! The federal judge didn't even review the bail package yet!"
"Shut that woman up," Eleanor commanded without turning around. One of the security guards struck Sarah across the shoulder with a heavy flashlight, and she slumped against the wall with a sharp groan of pain.
"Stop it!" Clara screamed, leaping out of the armchair despite her advanced pregnancy, running directly toward Eleanor before Julian could grab her. "You are insane! She’s your own daughter!"
Eleanor didn't even flinch. With chilling speed, she reached into the pocket of her beige dress and pulled out a small, snub-nosed revolver, pointing it directly at the center of Clara’s chest.
Julian’s heart stopped beating. The world narrowed down to the small black barrel of the gun and Clara’s terrified face illuminated by the laptop screen.
"One more step, you pathetic little leech, and I'll make sure neither you nor that bastard child ever leave this house alive," Eleanor whispered, her voice devoid of any human warmth whatsoever.
Clara froze dead in her tracks, her hands hovering protectively over her stomach as warm tears spilled down her cheeks.
Julian slowly lowered his briefcase to the floor, his hands raised in surrender. "Put the gun down, Mom. Please. We can figure this out. You don't have to add murder to your list of charges."
"It's not murder, Julian. It's asset protection," Eleanor said, stepping past Clara as if she were nothing more than a piece of furniture. She walked straight to the mahogany desk, picked up the silver flash drive, and slipped it into her pocket. "Now, where is the second backup key to the basement vault?"
Julian stared at her in utter disbelief. "There is no basement vault. The house blueprints don't show anything below the foundation."
Eleanor let out a sharp, mocking laugh, walking over to the heavy wooden bookshelf in the corner of the study. "Your father built this house, Julian. And he built a place to hide everything he loved—including me."
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She reached out her hand and twisted the brass globe resting on the corner shelf three times to the left.
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