Chapter 8
Marcus lunged forward toward the crib, his massive hands reaching out to tear the blankets away. Panic spiked through Clara’s veins. With a sharp cry of maternal fury, she sprang from the rocking chair and hurled herself directly into his path, shoving her full weight against his broad chest.
“Don’t you dare touch my daughter!” Clara screamed, her voice echoing off the nursery walls as she fought with the desperate strength of a cornered animal.
Marcus grunted in surprise, stumbling back a step before easily catching her by the shoulders and shoving her aside. Clara crashed hard against the desk, knocking the laptop to the floor with a loud plastic crack. The screen went black instantly, but the distraction had bought precious seconds.
Marcus turned his attention back to the crib, lifting Lily’s mattress with one rough pull. Nothing was underneath except the wooden slats. He cursed under his breath, turning his glare toward the closet doors.
Across the room, Clara pushed herself up from the floor, her elbow throbbing with dull pain. Her hand brushed against the fallen laptop, and beneath it, near the baseboard, she felt a slight looseness in the floor trim. It was a secret floor safe that Mark had installed behind the desk during the home renovations—something Julian had mentioned in passing during a late-night conversation months ago.
Without thinking, Clara dropped to her knees, sliding her fingers along the wooden baseboard. She pressed a small knot in the oak grain. With a soft click, a narrow panel popped open, revealing a dusty velvet-lined compartment containing a thick stack of bank routing numbers, encrypted flash drives, and a handwritten legal affidavit signed by three different junior partners at Evelyn’s firm.
Marcus heard the soft click and spun around, his eyes locking onto Clara kneeling on the floorboards.
“What did you just open?” Marcus snarled, taking a heavy stride toward her, his hand finally dipping beneath his trench coat to grip the cold steel of a pistol.
Clara grabbed the affidavit and the flash drives, stuffing them into her pockets alongside the red ledger. She looked up just as Marcus towered over her, his shadow swallowing her whole.
May you like
“Everything,” Clara whispered defiantly.
Before Marcus could draw his weapon, the wailing siren of a police cruiser echoed from the street directly outside the front door, its red and blue lights flashing wildly through the nursery window and casting long, chaotic streaks across the walls.
