Chapter 8 - The Lawyer’s Gamble
Marcus froze at the top of the stairs, cornered between Julian’s furious glare and Clara’s unblinking, predatory stare. The leather briefcase lay split open on the marble floor far below, scattering white papers across the entrance hall like fallen snow.
"Mr. Vance... Mr. Vance, please," Marcus stammered, raising his hands in a defensive gesture while backing slowly toward the service exit. "I was just... I was just securing the documents for safekeeping! Mrs. Vance ordered me to clear the archive before the federal marshals returned tomorrow morning!"
Julian stepped forward, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned chalk-white. "You've been embezzling from the shipping accounts for a decade, Marcus. I trusted you with my father's legacy."
"Your father’s legacy was rotten from the root!" Marcus shouted back, his voice cracking with desperation. He lunged toward the service stairwell, but Clara was faster. With a fluid, blindingly quick movement, she vaulted over the mahogany banister, landing squarely in front of the lawyer and blocking his only escape route.
Marcus gasped, stumbling backward against the wall. Clara advanced on him with the exact same lethal grace she had used to disarm Evelyn in the ballroom.
"Where are the rest of the offshore keys, Marcus?" Clara demanded, her voice chillingly calm. "The ones tied to the nursery fire settlement?"
Marcus shook his head frantically, his eyes darting toward the open window at the end of the hall. "I don't know what you're talking about! The fire was an accident! An electrical fault in the west wing!"
"My crib was in the east wing, Marcus," Clara said softly, stepping so close the lawyer could feel the freezing air radiating off her. "And the electrical report from twenty-five years ago listed kerosene traces on the floorboards. Try a better lie."
Julian caught up to them, grabbing Marcus by the lapels of his expensive tweed suit and slamming him against the wall with a hollow thud. "Talk, Marcus, or I swear I’ll let Agent Miller handle you the old-fashioned way."
"It was Evelyn’s father!" Marcus sobbed, finally breaking under the suffocating pressure. "He paid the arsonist! He wanted the Vance shipping fleet merged with his own holdings! The fire was supposed to clear the title, but you... you survived!" The lawyer pointed a shaking finger directly at Clara. "The nanny hid you in the laundry basket before she perished!"
The confession hung in the cold hallway air, heavy and undeniable. Julian let go of the lawyer as if the man were carrying a plague, staring at his hands in absolute horror.
May you like
Before anyone could move, a blinding flash of light erupted from the end of the corridor, followed by the sharp click of a camera shutter.
---
