Chapter 7
The second blue sewing box proved even more damning than the first. When Elena unlocked it with a small click, the harsh glow of several USB flash drives and a portable hard drive caught the ambient light filtering through the bedroom windows. Julian picked up the smallest drive, turning it over in his palm. It was a standard encrypted storage device, the exact model used by security professionals to back up closed-circuit camera footage.
“She installed pinhole cameras all over the house,” Elena explained quietly, keeping a watchful eye on the bedroom door to ensure they weren’t interrupted. “Not just in the hallways, but in the living room and Martha’s bedroom too. She wanted to monitor everything we did. But she didn't realize that the main server for the entire house system is linked to the old desktop computer in the study downstairs—the one she never uses because she thinks it’s broken.”
Julian nodded slowly, slipping the USB drive into the inner pocket of his dark suit jacket. He reached down and opened the third and final blue sewing box. This one contained no legal papers or digital drives; instead, it held a collection of expensive jewelry, high-end watches that Julian immediately recognized as missing family heirlooms from Martha’s side of the family, and a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills wrapped tightly in bank bands.
“She was liquidating everything,” Julian said, his voice hard as iron. “Every time I went out of town, she sold another piece of my mother’s history to pay off her own personal debts. She never loved any of this. She just wanted the liquid assets so she could disappear to Europe the second the house transfer cleared.”
From the bed behind them, Martha let out a weak sigh. She had managed to sit up straighter against the pillows, her color returning slightly now that she was away from the oppressive presence of the woman downstairs. “Don’t let her win, Julian,” Martha urged softly, reaching out to pat his hand where it rested on the dressing table. “Your grandfather built this estate with his bare hands. He didn't spend thirty years working the steel mills just to have a grifter steal it away with a forged signature.”
“She won't win, Mom,” Julian replied firmly, giving Martha’s frail hand a reassuring squeeze. He turned back to Elena, his expression completely transformed from the shattered man who had stumbled through the front door an hour ago. “Elena, you’ve saved us. If you hadn't kept those keys and stood your ground, we would have been completely blind.”
“I just did what was right, Mr. Julian,” Elena replied, offering a small, brave smile that made her white hair bow bounce slightly. “But we need to move fast. I heard car doors slamming downstairs a minute ago. I think her friends just arrived.”
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Before Julian could answer, a loud, heavy thud echoed from the bottom of the grand staircase, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps marching purposefully up toward the second floor.
***
