Chapter 6: The Architect of Deception**
Back at the Vance mansion, the ballroom had cleared out in a flurry of hurried departures. Half-eaten plates of roast duck and overturned champagne flutes littered the tables.
Eleanor Vance stood in her private study, clutching a crystal glass of scotch. Her phone rang relentlessly against the mahogany desk, displaying calls from major party donors, network producers, and the state attorney general.
"What is the damage control strategy?" Eleanor demanded of David Ross, who was frantically pacing across the Persian rug.
"There is no damage control, Eleanor," David said bluntly, loosening his collar. "The ledger Clara Sterling kept wasn't just handwritten notes. Julian uploaded digital scans of the corresponding bank transfers to three independent federal servers twenty minutes ago."
Eleanor’s hand began to shake, causing the ice in her glass to clink against the crystal. "He betrayed his own blood. For what? For a dead seamstress and a brat who doesn't even know the value of power?"
"He didn't betray you for power, Eleanor," David sighed, looking down at his shoes. "He did it because the truth doesn't rot. You can't outspend a memory."
Eleanor slammed the glass onto the desk, shattering the base. "Find the girl's legal guardian. Find any flaw in her custody papers. If she was placed under state care after Clara died, I will have child protective services take her into custody before breakfast."
"Eleanor, stop," David whispered. "Look outside."
Eleanor walked slowly toward the tall bay windows overlooking the front gates. What she saw paralyzed her.
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Hundreds of people from Oakhaven—factory workers, teachers, nurses, and elderly veterans—were gathering peacefully outside the iron gates, holding candles and signs reading *'Justice for Clara'* and *'Listen to Maya.'* The glow of the candlelight cast long, haunting shadows against the white pillars of the mansion.
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