Chapter 5
The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed midnight, its deep, resonant gongs vibrating through the floorboards. Upstairs in her childhood bedroom, Clara sat cross-legged on the center of her bed, the metal lockbox resting open in her lap. The desk lamp cast a warm, isolated circle of light in the otherwise dark room. Arthur had insisted she lock her door from the inside and refused to leave the hallway until he was certain Tamara had retreated to the east wing.
Carefully, Clara unfolded the handwritten letter from her mother. The ink was slightly faded, written with a hurried intensity that contrasted sharply with Eleanor’s usual meticulous penmanship.
“Tamara came into our lives offering efficiency, but she brought an agenda rooted in destruction. She has been systematically acquiring leverage over our corporate accounts. If my death should occur under unusual circumstances—or suddenly, as these things are often orchestrated—do not let her take the house. Look behind the architectural model of the Zenith Tower in the studio. The duplicate keys and the real portfolio are hidden there.”
Clara’s breath hitched. Zenith Tower was her mother’s masterpiece, a massive, highly detailed scale model housed in the third-floor design studio where Eleanor spent most of her waking hours. The studio had been kept strictly off-limits by Tamara since the day after the funeral, under the guise of "sanitizing hazardous materials."
A soft knock at her bedroom door made Clara jump. She quickly snapped the lockbox shut and slid it beneath the heavy wool blankets.
"Clara? It’s Arthur," came the low murmur from the hallway.
Clara got up and unlocked the door, pulling it open just a few inches. Arthur stood there in his shirtsleeves, his jacket draped over his arm, looking exhausted. The lines on his face seemed deeper in the dim hallway light, a testament to the heavy burden he had carried alongside Eleanor for years.
"Are you alright?" Arthur asked, his gaze searching her face with genuine concern.
"I found the letter," Clara whispered, stepping back to let him enter. She retrieved the document and handed it to him.
May you like
Arthur read through the lines quickly, his expression darkening with every word. When he finished, he lowered the paper, his jaw clenched so tightly a muscle twitched in his cheek.
"This changes everything," Arthur said grimly. "If Eleanor suspected Tamara was plotting against her... we have to get into that studio tonight."
