Chapter 7 - Locked Inside
The heavy lock clicked into place with a definitive finality that sent a jolt of panic through Eleanor. She darted toward the study door and slammed her palms against the dark wood, rattling the brass handle furiously, but it held firm.
"Lily!" Eleanor shouted through the wood, her voice laced with sudden terror. "Lily, are you out there? Answer me!"
From the other side of the door came the muffled sound of a scuffle, followed by a sharp gasp and the heavy thud of someone hitting the floor. Then, silence—a terrifying, absolute silence that made Eleanor's blood run cold.
"Let her go, Beatrice!" Eleanor spun around, her eyes blazing with fury as she faced the older woman across the room. "If you touch that child, I swear to God—"
Beatrice didn't lower the revolver, though her hand trembled slightly with age and adrenaline. She kept the barrel steady, her eyes cold and calculating. "I didn't lock that door, Eleanor. That means someone else is out in the hallway with the little girl. Someone who wants those documents just as badly as we do."
Eleanor's breath caught in her throat. She looked around the study frantically, searching for another way out. The stained-glass windows were high and barred with heavy iron grates, leaving the door as the only viable exit.
"It was Arthur, wasn't it?" Eleanor realized, the pieces finally clicking together. "He lied about Beatrice running for a gun. He sent me in here to trap us both while he took Lily and the microchip."
Beatrice lowered the revolver slightly, a flicker of genuine shock crossing her aged face. "Arthur? The pathetic coward I hired to manage the contracts? He wouldn't have the courage to betray me."
"He didn't betray you, Beatrice. He used you," Eleanor countered bitterly. "He’s been embezzling from the foundation for three years, blaming it on your erratic accounting. The federal audit was his exit strategy all along."
Suddenly, the muffled sound of a key turning in the study lock echoed through the room. The brass handle slowly began to rotate downward, and the heavy oak door creaked open an inch.
Eleanor grabbed the heavy bronze paperweight off the desk, raising it defensively as the door swung wider to reveal a figure standing in the dim hallway light.
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It wasn't Arthur. Standing in the doorway, holding a terrified little Lily by the arm, was a man wearing a federal marshal's uniform—except his badge was pinned upside down.
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