Chapter 7
Mark stopped three feet inside the kitchen, his polished black shoes hovering just inches from the fallen chocolate tartlet. His smile vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, calculating expression that didn't match the casual friendliness he had displayed all evening in the dining room. He didn't look shocked to see David standing there; instead, his eyes narrowed, shifting quickly from David to the leather ledger still clutched in Clara’s white-knuckled grip.
"Well," Mark said smoothly, his voice carrying an eerie, practiced calm. "It looks like the secret’s finally out of the bag."
Clara stared at Mark, her brain struggling to connect the dots. Mark was her business partner, the man who had helped her secure corporate loans after David’s supposed death, the shoulder she had cried on during the darkest nights of her grief.
"Mark?" Clara whispered, her voice trembling. "What are you talking about? Did you know about this too?"
Mark sighed, adjusting the cuffs of his expensive designer shirt as if he were standing in a corporate boardroom rather than a chaotic family kitchen.
"Clara, honey, be reasonable," Mark said, taking a slow step forward. "Do you honestly think a boutique firm like ours could have survived the fallout of a major insurance scandal ten years ago? Your mother didn't act alone. We all had to protect our investments."
Rachel whimpered, hiding her face against the side of the refrigerator as Mark’s voice echoed off the modern tile walls.
Martha glared at Mark, her voice sharp with sudden venom. "Shut your mouth, Mark. You’re only making it worse."
"Worse?" Mark laughed quietly, a sound devoid of any real humor. "Martha, the jig is up. David is standing right here in the flesh. The federal investigators have been auditing our corporate accounts for the past three weeks anyway. It was only a matter of time before they knocked on this very door."
David crossed his arms, stepping slightly in front of Rachel to shield the little girl from Mark’s cold gaze.
"He’s right, Clara," David said, his tone grim. "Mark didn't just help cover up the warehouse fire. He’s the one who arranged the bogus car maintenance report that sent my car over Blackwood Cliff in the first place. He wanted me out of the company so he could take my shares."
Clara felt the floor seem to drop away beneath her feet. She looked at Mark, waiting for him to laugh, waiting for him to say it was a sick joke, a prank meant to ruin the dinner party. But Mark just stared back with a chilling indifference.
"You’re insane," Clara breathed, tears streaming down her face unchecked. "All of you. You lied, you stole, you conspired to commit murder, and you sat in my house eating my food while smiling in my face."
"We did it for the family, Clara," Sarah whimpered, wringing her hands together. "For your future."
Mark took another step forward, reaching out a hand toward Clara as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening.
"Give me the ledger, Clara," Mark said smoothly, his voice dropping into a commanding tone. "Let me handle it. I can fix this before the police get involved."
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Before Clara could pull away, the harsh sound of flashing red and blue lights suddenly painted the kitchen windows, reflecting off the shiny stainless steel appliances as three police cruisers pulled directly into the driveway, their sirens cutting off with a sharp, heavy whine.
***
