Chapter 9 - The Bloodstained Watch
The heavy boots of the guard echoed rhythmically down the hall, fading into the depths of the manor before returning a minute later with slow, deliberate steps. Every eye in the library remained locked on the doorway, waiting in agonizing suspense.
When the guard reappeared, he was carrying a tarnished, heavy iron lockbox in one hand. Water stains marred its surface, and the metal was pitted with deep, orange rust. He strode across the room and placed it heavily onto the mahogany reading table with a dull, echoing thud.
The suit-clad stranger stepped forward immediately. His gloved hands reached out, unlatching the rusted clasps with a sharp click that sounded like a gunshot in the quiet room. He slowly lifted the heavy lid.
Inside lay a collection of yellowed documents, brittle news clippings from nineteen-ninety-two, and a thick stack of property titles bearing a signature completely different from the name Arthur had used for decades. But resting right on top, catching the dim light of the chandelier, was a heavy gold pocket watch. The crystal face was shattered into a spiderweb of cracks, and a dark, dried stain marred the engraved casing.
The stranger picked up the watch with reverence, his thumb gently tracing the monogram engraved on the back. A tear welled in the corner of his eye, quickly replaced by a cold, unyielding rage.
"My grandfather's watch," the stranger whispered, his voice trembling with suppressed fury. He looked up, locking his blazing eyes onto Arthur. "You wore this. You took it from his cold body after you threw him down that well."
Arthur didn't flinch. He leaned heavily against his cane, his shoulders shaking slightly. "He fell, Jonathan. We were arguing about the sale of the timberland. He lost his footing on the ridge. I panicked. I was young, and I was terrified of being blamed."
"And locking me in the wall for thirty years? Was you panicking then too?" the captive rasped from the dark alcove, his voice dripping with venom. "You framed me for his murder, Thomas, so you could inherit the estate and keep me silenced forever!"
Mark felt his stomach heave. He turned away from the table, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes as if he could erase the nightmare unfolding around him. His wife, Sarah, pulled Leo tightly into her arms, whispering soothing words while her own eyes burned with terror and disgust.
"We need to call the police," Sarah said, her voice shaking violently. "Mark, do something. Call the authorities right now."
"No police," Jonathan said coldly, slipping the bloodstained watch into his suit pocket. He signaled to his two guards, who immediately moved closer, effectively blocking every exit from the library. "The law had thirty years to find justice and failed. My family will handle this."
"You're not taking him," Mark said, stepping back between the strangers and his grandfather with a sudden, desperate surge of defiance. "He's still my father. Whatever he did, he has to stand trial. We aren't going to let you execute him in secret."
Jonathan smirked, a cruel, calculating expression crossing his face. "Mr. Miller, you misunderstand. We aren't just here for your father. We're here for the entire estate. And according to these recovered deeds, signed under duress thirty years ago, your family owns none of it."
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Before Mark could reply, a sudden, violent crash echoed from the front hallway, followed by the sound of flashing blue lights painting the library windows in frantic shades of azure.
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