Chapter 7
Downstairs, the house was empty of detectives. Vance and his partner had departed into the midday heat, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than before. Derek stood in the study off the main hallway, the door locked securely from the inside. The room smelled of old paper, leather-bound ledgers, and expensive scotch.
He walked over to the mahogany desk—the very desk Maya had used to manage the family’s vast real estate portfolio before her sudden, convenient demise. Derek knelt down, his expensive black trousers brushing the Persian rug. He reached underneath the heavy wooden overhang, his fingers searching along the carved molding until they found a small, concealed latch.
With a soft click, a narrow side panel of the desk slid outward, revealing a hidden compartment carved into the thick wood. Inside sat Maya’s personal smartphone, its screen dark, resting next to a thick stack of printed financial statements.
Derek pulled the phone out, his thumb pressing the side button. The screen flashed to life, demanding a six-digit passcode. He frowned, his bruised jaw tightening as he stared at the glowing numbers. Maya had changed the code just forty-eight hours before she died—right after she discovered the offshore transfers moving family assets into accounts controlled exclusively by Derek and Elena.
A soft knock sounded at the study door. Derek didn’t jump; he simply slid the phone into his jacket pocket and stood up, walking smoothly across the room to unlock the heavy wood.
Elena slipped inside, closing the door behind her with a silent turn of the brass knob. Her face was pale, lines of fatigue finally cutting deep around her mouth and eyes.
“Vance is talking to the neighbors on the corner,” Elena said without preamble, leaning back against the closed door as if she needed its support. “They’re asking about the shouting. They heard Maya’s voice. They heard the glass break.”
“Let them talk,” Derek replied, pouring himself a two-finger glass of scotch from the crystal decanter on the sideboard. He didn’t offer any to his mother. “Neighbors misinterpret arguments all the time. Without the phone, Vance has no digital trail. He has no proof of the transfer requests, no record of the calls Maya made to her attorney that afternoon.”
Elena pushed off the door, stepping further into the room. Her eyes were sharp, scanning Derek’s suit jacket where the phone was hidden. “You have it? You found it?”
“It’s here,” Derek said, taking a slow sip of the amber liquid. “Locked. She changed the code.”
“We need to unlock it before the forensics team gets a warrant for the house,” Elena said, her voice rising with sudden, suppressed panic. “If they mirror that device, everything we’ve built—everything your father spent forty years accumulating—is gone. We’ll spend the rest of our lives behind bars.”
May you like
Derek set his glass down on the desk with a sharp clack. The amber liquid sloshed against the crystal rim. He looked at his mother, a cold, calculating smile touching the corners of his mouth.
“Don’t worry, Mother,” Derek said softly, touching the bruised skin on his jaw. “Maya always used dates she thought were important. We’ll break it by nightfall. And if we can’t, well… children aren’t the only ones who can have accidents.”
