Chapter 11: The Police Report
The rain continued to hammer against the leaded glass windows of the Willowbrook estate as Detective Miller of the county sheriff’s department sat at the mahogany desk in the library. He flipped through a thick file containing the structural engineer's report, photographs of the fissure in the wine cellar, and copies of the unauthorized contractor invoices that Vanessa had secretly signed using Andrew's forged power of attorney.
Detective Miller looked up, running a hand over his graying mustache. "Well, Mrs. Sterling, the paper trail is remarkably clear. Your former daughter-in-law was remarkably thorough in her documentation—which, ironically, is what makes this an open-and-open case of fraud and intentional property damage."
"Can she be arrested tonight?" Andrew asked, pacing anxiously across the Persian rug. He hadn't slept in thirty-six hours, and his tuxedo shirt, though clean, was deeply wrinkled.
"Warrants take a little time to process, Mr. Sterling, especially involving high-net-worth civil and criminal overlap," Detective Miller replied evenly. "However, given the immediate danger to human life posed by the compromised foundation, a judge can sign an emergency injunction and an immediate apprehension order by morning. Where is she staying?"
Eleanor stepped forward, her posture immaculate despite the late hour. "Her parents maintain a leased penthouse downtown, but Vanessa is vindictive. She likely retreated to her corporate backer's office in the financial district—a shell company registered under the name Vanguard Holdings."
Detective Miller nodded, closing his notebook with a sharp snap. "We'll coordinate with the city precinct. But I must warn you, Mr. Sterling, once these charges go public, the media circus will be relentless. Your family name will be front-page news for all the wrong reasons."
"Let them print whatever they want," Eleanor said coldly. "Better a public scandal than a buried estate."
As Detective Miller gathered his coat and prepared to leave, a sudden, sharp crack echoed from somewhere above them, followed by a heavy thud that rattled the books on the library shelves. Both men froze. Andrew looked up toward the ceiling with wide eyes.
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"That came from the second-floor gallery," Andrew whispered.
Without waiting for permission, Andrew sprinted out of the library and up the grand staircase, with Eleanor and Detective Miller following close behind. They reached the second-floor landing just in time to see a heavy, gilded oil portrait of Eleanor’s grandfather lying face down on the polished floorboards, the gilded frame smashed to pieces. The wall behind it had cracked open, revealing a dark, hidden cavity built deep within the masonry.
