Chapter 6 - Handcuffs and Heritage
The heavy mahogany door swung wide open, flooding the bright modern luxury hallway with the harsh, flickering strobe of police cruisers. Two uniformed officers stepped briskly onto the marble floor, their hands resting near their service belts. Behind them stood Detective Miller, a weathered middle-aged man with sharp gray eyes and a trench coat damp from the evening mist.
“David Vance? And Eleanor Vance?” Detective Miller asked, holding out a digital tablet displaying an arrest warrant. “You’re both being detained for questioning regarding the suspicious death of Clara Vance and ongoing corporate embezzlement.”
Eleanor let out a sharp, strangled gasp, her knees buckling slightly as she grabbed the back of a velvet accent chair for support. “This is a mistake! My husband is a respected member of the board! We have legal counsel!”
“Your legal counsel is standing right there, and he’s the one who handed us the bank transfers,” Detective Miller replied without missing a beat. He gestured to Marcus, who nodded grimly. The detective motioned to the younger officer. “Cuff them.”
Cold steel clicked into place around Eleanor’s wrists. She thrashed against the officer, her face contorting in rage as she glared directly at Maya. “You ungrateful little brat! You’ll be begging to crawl back into the dirt by tomorrow! They won't protect you once the board finds out what your mother hid in the offshore trusts!”
David didn’t fight the cuffs. He held his wrists out with chilling dignity, his tall frame remaining rigidly upright as the cold metal secured his arms. As the officers led him past Maya, he paused for a fraction of a second, his stern eyes boring down into hers with a secret warning.
“Check the wall safe behind the library painting, Maya,” David muttered under his breath, just loud enough for only her to hear. “The keys are in your mother’s sewing box. What you find in there will destroy everything you think you know.”
Before Maya could ask what he meant, the officers guided him out the door into the flashing red lights, leaving Eleanor’s shrill, cursing voice echoing down the driveway until the patrol cars pulled away into the night.
The foyer fell dead silent. Marcus Vance closed his briefcase and exhaled a long, shuddering breath, turning to face Maya.
“Are you alright?” the attorney asked gently.
Maya looked down at her hands, still trembling against the fabric of her purple knit sweater. “He told me to check the library safe. He said there’s something in there that will destroy everything.”
May you like
Marcus’s expression hardened instantly. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, heavy iron key attached to an antique silver tag. “Don't touch that safe yet, Maya. Clara gave me this key two days before she died, and she told me explicitly never to let David—or you—open it alone.”
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