Chapter 5: The Master Suite
Clara motioned for Mrs. Gable to stay back as she crept closer to the partially opened door of the master suite. Peering inside through the narrow gap, her breath caught in her throat. Marcus Vance stood by the mahogany dressing table, his tall, imposing figure silhouetted against the dark window. He was frantically turning the dial of the wall safe hidden behind a heavy oil painting of the estate. His tailored gray suit was immaculate, contrasting sharply with the chaotic state of the room, where dresser drawers had been pulled out and their contents scattered across the Persian rug.
“Hurry up, Julian,” Marcus muttered under his breath, not realizing he was speaking aloud. “We need those deeds before the probate lawyer arrives on Monday morning.”
From the hallway, Clara realized that Julian had must have let Marcus into the house through the side terrace doors while she and Mrs. Gable were hiding in the sitting room. The conspiracy between the two men was far deeper and more organized than she had initially imagined. They weren't just covering up a sudden crime of passion; this was the execution of a premeditated plan to strip her family of every last acre of land and every penny of generational wealth.
Clara backed away from the door, signaling frantically to Mrs. Gable. The maid’s face was ashen with dread. “We can’t fight them both, Clara. We need to get outside to Marcus’s car and sound the horn. It’s our only chance to alert the neighbors down the lane.”
“No,” Clara whispered fiercely, shaking her head. “If we go outside, we’re out in the open. Marcus left his car keys right there on the silver tray by the front door when he came in. If we take his car, we trap them here and we can drive straight to the sheriff’s office in town.”
May you like
It was a daring, reckless plan, but it was the only offensive move left to them. Mrs. Gable looked at the brave, defiant face of the eight-year-old girl and saw the fierce spirit of Eleanor looking back at her. Without another word of hesitation, the maid nodded in agreement. They crept back toward the service stairs, moving with practiced stealth down to the ground floor. The vast foyer was eerily quiet as they crossed the marble floor, giving a wide berth to the tragic spot where Eleanor lay.
Marcus’s sleek black sedan sat parked directly beneath the portico, its engine ticking softly as it cooled in the damp night air. Perched on the antique silver entry table, gleaming under the weak sconce light, lay the heavy brass key fob to the vehicle. Clara reached up, her small fingers curling around the cold metal. At that exact moment, the heavy footsteps of Julian and Marcus echoed from the top of the grand staircase, followed by a sharp shout that shattered the silence of the hall.
