Chapter 5 - Sirens at the Gate
The flashing crimson and azure lights painted frantic, dancing shadows across the American flag hanging on the wood-paneled wall. The heavy pounding at the front door grew louder, accompanied by authoritative voices demanding entry.
"Police! Open the door!"
Julian’s head snapped toward the foyer. His calculated, icy demeanor vanished in an instant, replaced by a sudden, frantic panic. He grabbed Clara by the arm of her burgundy pantsuit, his fingers biting deep into her flesh.
"Who did you call?" Julian hissed, shaking her violently. "Did you call the authorities? Are you trying to sink us both?"
"I didn't call anyone!" Clara cried out, wincing in pain as she tried to wrench her arm free. "I swear to God, Julian, it wasn me!"
Elena, holding the baby safely against her chest, took slow, deliberate steps backward toward the French doors that led out to the rear garden patio. The cool night air rushed into the room as she quietly unlocked the latch, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She had survived poverty, immigration struggles, and endless domestic abuse in her past life; she was not about to be caught in the crossfire of a political murder conspiracy.
"Stay where you are, nanny!" Julian barked, turning his attention toward the door as it shuddered under a heavy shoulder impact from the hallway.
With a deafening crash, the front door gave way, and heavy footsteps echoed across the marble foyer. Within seconds, three uniformed police officers, led by a tall detective in a grey trench coat, swarmed into the private study with their hands resting near their holstered weapons.
"Julian Vance? Clara Vance?" the lead detective asked, his voice booming and authoritative as he flashed a silver badge. "I’m Detective Miller, State Homicide Division. You are both being detained for questioning regarding the suspicious death of Senator Marcus Vance."
Clara’s jaw dropped. She turned her stunned gaze from the detective back to Julian. Senator Marcus Vance was Julian’s uncle—and the primary beneficiary of the family’s vast political trust, who had supposedly died of natural causes just three days ago.
Julian didn't look shocked. Instead, a slow, sinister smile crept back onto his face as the heavy steel handcuffs were pulled from the detective's belt.
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"There's been a terrible mistake, Detective," Julian said smoothly, stepping forward with his hands already held out, though his eyes locked onto his wife with pure venom. "You should be asking my wife about the poison she found in my uncle's private study."
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