Chapter 11 - The Trap Closes
The flashlight beam cut through the darkness of the dumbwaiter shaft like a laser, pinning Maya against the rough wooden walls of the cargo box. She squinted against the harsh glare, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. Above her, Marcus Vance leaned over the edge of the open kitchen hatch, a cruel, satisfied smirk twisting his features.
“Going somewhere special, Maya?” Marcus called down, his voice bouncing off the brick walls of the shaft. “Or were you just taking a little exploratory ride into your future?”
“I’m not doing anything wrong!” Maya shouted back, her voice echoing defensively as she tightened her grip on the frayed hemp rope. “You and Mrs. Hall can’t hide what you’ve stolen forever!”
Marcus chuckled, a dry, dismissive sound. He motioned to the security guard standing beside him.
“Pull her up,” Marcus ordered coldly. “And make sure she doesn't drop anything down into the lower levels.”
Strong, calloused hands grabbed the rope from above, hauling the wooden cargo box upward with brutal speed. Maya stumbled out onto the linoleum floor of the service kitchen the moment she reached the top, her wrists immediately caught in a tight grip by the security guard, who shoved her hard against the stainless-steel counter.
Marcus stepped closer, towering over her with an expression of pure menace.
“You really thought you could outsmart a multi-million-dollar operation with a rusty pulley system?” Marcus sneered, leaning down to look her dead in the eye. “Where is Arthur hiding the hard copies? Tell me now, and maybe I’ll convince the judge to drop the grand larceny charge to simple trespassing.”
Maya spat a single drop of defiance onto the pristine kitchen floor, keeping her chin raised.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Maya lied, her voice steady despite the sheer terror gripping her chest. “Mr. Hall is locked in the basement. He didn't tell me anything.”
Marcus’s smile vanished instantly. He signaled the guard with a sharp nod of his head.
“Lock her in the old coal cellar beside Arthur’s cell,” Marcus commanded, turning his back on her as he pulled out his phone to dial Elena. “Let’s see how cooperative she is after forty-eight hours in the dark without water.”
Meanwhile, upstairs in the east wing study, Investigator Harris stood before Elena with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression hard and unyielding.
“Mrs. Hall, the safe is empty, and your husband is locked in a basement holding cell,” Harris said, his tone entirely professional. “Furthermore, our preliminary digital trace on the corporate accounts shows over twelve million dollars transferred to an offshore holding entity bearing your personal electronic signature.”
Elena didn’t flinch. She let out a soft, heartbreaking sigh, dabbing a dry eye with a lace handkerchief.
“Inspector, my husband hacked my credentials weeks ago,” Elena whispered, her voice cracking with manufactured grief. “He planned this entire corporate sabotage from the very beginning to ruin me.”
Harris stared at her for a long, heavy moment, then pulled a pair of formal documents from his briefcase.
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“In that case, Mrs. Hall, pursuant to federal fraud regulations, I am officially freezing all personal and corporate assets linked to Blackwood Manor—effective immediately.”
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