Chapter 3 - The Broken Cup
The sharp scent of spilled vinegar and broken porcelain filled the air as the head butler, Arthur, trembled violently against the granite countertop. Viktor kept a firm, unyielding grip on Arthur’s lapel, his dark eyes boring into the older man with a predator's focus. Clara stepped back, her bruised arm throbbing in rhythm with her racing pulse. She had known Arthur was cold, distant, and fiercely protective of the estate's strict hierarchy, but seeing him pinned like a common criminal cracked the rigid facade of the household wide open.
"How long were you standing in the dark, Arthur?" Viktor’s voice was dangerously low, lacking any trace of warmth.
"I—I was just fetching a tonic for my arthritis, Mr. Vance," Arthur stammered, his eyes darting frantically toward Clara before locking onto the floor. "I swear on my mother's grave, I didn't hear anything about debts or... or targets."
"You're a terrible liar," Viktor said coldly, shoving Arthur back a step. "And you have terrible timing. Clara has been scrubbing these floors until her knuckles bleed for six months, and tonight, she's wearing someone else's handprints on her face. You run the domestic staff. Did you see who did this?"
Arthur adjusted his crooked collar with shaking fingers, casting a sideways glance at Clara that held a mixture of warning and fear. "The staff quarters are locked from the outside at ten o'clock every night, Mr. Vance. No one from the outside could have gotten in. But... the ledger in the master study tracks every visitor who comes through the security gate after hours."
Clara’s breath hitched. The master study was strictly off-limits to everyone except Viktor and his most trusted associates. If Arthur knew about a visitor logged in that book, it meant someone with high-level clearance had brought the intruder inside the house.
Viktor sensed the shift in the room immediately. He released Arthur with a dismissive shove, turning his full attention back to Clara. "The ledger," he said quietly. "Who has the duplicate key to the study, Clara?"
Clara swallowed hard, her eyes wide with sudden realization. "Only Arthur... and the Chief Financial Officer, Mr. Sterling."
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Arthur let out a sharp, breathless laugh that sounded suspiciously like panic. "You're looking in the wrong place, Viktor," Arthur gasped, pointing a shaky finger at the back door. "Sterling didn't let them in. Clara let her own brother through the tradesman's entrance two hours ago."
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