Chapter 4 - The Midnight Addendum
The word hung in the vaulted foyer like an unexploded bomb. Eleanor gasped, her hand flying to her throat as the color drained completely from her face beneath her red hair. David’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, his tall frame tensing as if preparing for physical violence.
“Explain yourself, Marcus,” David commanded, his voice dropping an octave as he exerted every ounce of his corporate intimidation tactics. “That is a reckless accusation, and you will retract it immediately or face immediate disbarment.”
“Disbar for what? Reading a client's final instructions?” Marcus replied without flinching. He turned his attention directly to Maya, his expression softening with genuine sorrow. “Maya, your mother didn't just pass away from post-operative complications. The hospital toxicology report came back three hours ago. There were synthetic barbiturates in her bloodstream—doses four times higher than what was prescribed.”
Maya staggered backward, her dark jeans brushing against the carved wooden legs of the entry table. The world spun. Her mother, vibrant, sharp-minded, and fiercely protective, hadn’t just slipped away. She had been murdered.
“That’s insane!” Eleanor shrieked, finally breaking her composure completely. Her voice lost its refined edge, turning into a shrill, hysterical screech. “She was sick! Everyone knows she had cancer! She took her own medication incorrectly!”
“Clara kept a daily log of every pill she ingested, down to the minute,” Marcus countered, pulling a small, leather-bound notebook from his briefcase and holding it up. The familiar worn leather caught the light of the chandelier. It was her mother’s journal—the very one Eleanor had claimed was thrown away.
Maya’s breath caught in her throat. “You... you have it. You have her journal.”
“I retrieved it from the study safe this morning before Eleanor’s movers arrived,” Marcus said quietly. He flipped open the cover, revealing pages filled with Clara’s sharp, sloping handwriting. “And inside, she wrote down every detail of the financial diversion schemes running through David’s architectural firm. She knew about the offshore accounts, Eleanor. And she knew who was moving the money.”
David didn't shout. He didn't blink. He simply turned his head slowly, his cold grey eyes locking onto Eleanor with a terrifying, predator-like intensity that made even the red-haired woman shrink away in sudden, genuine fear.
“You said everything was secure,” David whispered, the words barely audible over the hum of the HVAC system.
“I didn't know she was keeping a paper log!” Eleanor hissed back, forgetting for a split second that Maya and the attorney were standing right there.
May you like
Marcus snapped the journal shut with a sharp crack. “Well, now everyone knows. And the police are already parked at the security gate at the end of the driveway.”
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