Chapter 3 - The Suede Compartment
Maya held her breath in the dark alcove, her fingernails digging into the wooden railing. Her mother’s luxury handbag—the one item Clara had been so desperate to secure—held a secret powerful enough to make Julian, a man usually made of ice, visibly pale. Downstairs, Julian’s hand shot out, catching Clara’s wrist before she could unzip the bag further.
"Where did you get that?" Julian demanded, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
"From her dressing table," Clara replied, unbothered by his tight grip. "Right beside her sleeping pills. Convenient, wasn't it? How quickly her heart just gave out."
Maya’s heart stopped. The implication hung in the air, dark and suffocating. Her mother hadn't been sick; she had been fine just hours before. Creeping silently down three steps to get a better angle, Maya strained her ears. Julian let go of Clara’s wrist as if it were burning hot, stepping back into the dim light of the chandelier.
"If anyone finds out about the amended trust, we are both ruined," Julian muttered, running a hand through his hair.
"Then help me get rid of the brat tonight," Clara urged, stepping into his personal space. "She finds out, and the police will be asking questions about the toxicology report that haven't even been filed yet."
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Maya gasped, a soft intake of air that felt deafening in the quiet house. Downstairs, both adults froze, their heads snapping toward the staircase. Maya didn't hesitate; she turned and sprinted down the long hallway toward the service stairs at the back of the house, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She needed to get to that bag. She needed to see what her mother had left behind before Clara and her father locked her out of the truth forever.
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