Chapter 3
Leaving the dining room without another word, Koralie walked down the dimly lit corridor toward her father’s private study. The house smelled faintly of old leather, polished mahogany, and expensive pipe tobacco—scents that had once meant safety and belonging, but now felt like a mausoleum. She pushed the heavy oak door open. The room was dark, save for the pale moonlight cutting through the tall French windows, casting long, skeletal shadows across the floorboards.
She didn't turn on the lights. Her footsteps were silent as she approached the large mahogany desk where Richard kept his private records. She knew from childhood habit where he kept the duplicate keys to the wall safe behind the faux-leather book bindings. With steady fingers, she slid aside a volume of nineteenth-century poetry and pressed the hidden release latch. The small iron door clicked open, revealing a velvet-lined interior containing passports, bank statements, and a stack of legal documents tied with a faded silk ribbon.
Koralie untied the ribbon and unfolded the topmost paper. It was a deed transfer, signed less than a month after her mother’s passing, transferring ownership of the estate—and her mother’s personal inheritance—directly to Richard, with secondary provisions naming Eleanor as co-trustee. The date on the document was damning; it had been drawn up while Koralie was still grieving in a hospital room miles away.
A soft click at the doorway made Koralie freeze. She turned slowly to find Chloe standing in the threshold, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the hallway. Chloe’s hands were trembling slightly, but her expression was surprisingly resolute.
"You shouldn't be looking in there," Chloe whispered, closing the door softly behind her to ensure Eleanor and Richard couldn't hear.
"And you shouldn't be sneaking around behind your mother's back," Koralie replied evenly, holding up the deed transfer. "Did you know about this, Chloe? Did your family plan this hostile takeover before the body was even cold?"
Chloe flinched, stepping further into the room. "No! I swear to you, Koralie, I didn't know about the house transfer until last week. But... I did hear Eleanor talking on the phone with the wedding planner this morning. She didn't just remove your mother’s card from the table. She gave your mother’s reserved seat to Marcus Vance."
Koralie’s breath caught in her throat. Marcus Vance was the ruthless real estate developer who had been trying to buy out the historic district where Koralie’s mother had operated her community foundation for decades. Richard had refused Vance’s offers for years—until Eleanor entered the picture.
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"Vance is coming to the wedding?" Koralie asked, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place with terrifying clarity.
"As an honored guest," Chloe whispered miserably. "Seated right at the family head table. Eleanor invited him behind your father's back—or maybe with his permission. Either way, they're selling you out, Koralie. Not just your mother's memory, but your entire future."
