Chapter 6
The cold steel barrel of the marshal's firearm pointed directly at Clara’s chest, freezing the chaos in the grand hallway into a terrifying still-life. The crystal chandeliers overhead seemed to hum with tension. Julian threw his hands up instinctively, stepping in front of Clara to shield her from the line of fire, his slicked-back hair falling out of place for the first time in his meticulously managed life.
“Lower your weapon!” Julian barked, his voice carrying the commanding authority of a man accustomed to ruling boardrooms, though it now carried a desperate edge. “She is a domestic employee. She has nothing to do with corporate filings.”
The lead marshal did not lower his weapon, his eyes narrowing as he looked from Julian to Clara, whose maid's uniform bore the embroidered crest of the Vance estate.
“She was holding an encrypted data carrier matching the description of our primary missing asset,” the marshal stated coldly, gesturing with his left hand for backup. “Search her.”
Before Clara could react, a second officer moved in behind her, grabbing her arms and pinning them against her back. The sudden, rough movement wrenched a sharp gasp from her lips. Her fingers instinctively pressed against the hidden pocket where the flash drive rested, feeling the small metallic edge biting into her thigh.
“Get your hands off her!” Elena screamed, stepping forward, abandoning her shock to defend her half-sister. “She didn't steal anything! That was given to her!”
“Miss Vance,” the lead marshal warned, keeping his weapon trained on Julian while motioning for another agent to secure Elena. “Interfering with a federal execution of warrant is a felony offense. Step back immediately.”
Beatrice, who had crept back into the hallway from the service corridor, watched the scene unfold from the shadows near the large gold-framed mirror. A cold, calculating smirk touched the corners of her mouth. She reached into the pocket of her red gown, pulling out her personal cell phone, and quietly dialed a number that did not go to emergency services, but to the legal counsel handling the offshore accounts.
Clara felt the cold metal of the marshal's latex-gloved hand slide into her pocket. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She looked desperately at Julian, whose face had turned the color of ash.
“You won't find what you're looking for in my pocket,” Clara said, her voice steady despite the trembling of her frame. “The drive isn't there anymore.”
The federal agent searching her pulled his hand out of her pocket, holding up an empty silver-plated locket—the only keepsake her mother had left her. He frowned, looking down at the empty cloth lining.
“Sir, it's not on her,” the agent reported, looking up at his superior.
Julian exhaled a long, shuddering breath, his eyes darting toward the floor where the flash drive had slipped from Clara’s fingers during the scuffle, sliding silently across the slick marble and coming to rest directly beneath the heavy gold frame of the hallway mirror.
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Beatrice saw it too. As the marshals momentarily shifted their attention to secure Julian’s wrists in handcuffs, Beatrice lunged forward across the polished floor with shocking speed.
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