Chapter 9
The knock on the study door echoed through the silent hallway like a pistol shot. Marcus froze, his eyes darting from Eleanor to the heavy mahogany panels.
"Open it," Eleanor whispered fiercely, her composure returning instantly as she smoothed the front of her black lace dress. "Act like you were cataloging Clara's personal effects per my instructions."
Marcus scrambled to his feet, dusting off his trousers before reaching out and sliding the brass bolt. He pulled the door open to reveal Derek standing in the corridor. The harsh corridor lights cast deep shadows across Derek’s face, highlighting the fresh, angry scratch on his jawline.
Derek pushed past Marcus without a word, stepping into the study. His dark eyes swept over the disarrayed desk and the open drawers before locking onto his mother.
"Mother. I thought you were resting in your suite," Derek said, his voice tightly controlled.
"I was," Eleanor replied smoothly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Then I noticed your estate manager wandering through the private wing without authorization. I came to supervise him. Clara left her personal financial archives in complete chaos before... the accident. We need to ensure nothing sensitive is exposed before the probate lawyers arrive next week."
Derek didn't look convinced. He turned his attention back to Marcus, walking slowly toward him until he was standing uncomfortably close. "You missed a spot, Marcus," Derek said softly, his voice dropping into a low, menacing register. "You told me the southside facility handled all the archive bags on Tuesday night. But the night watchman mentioned you dropped something near the conveyor belt."
Marcus swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. "I... I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Vance. It must have been a corporate ledger backup. Standard procedure."
"Standard procedure," Derek repeated, the words tasting like poison on his tongue. He reached out, his large hand gripping Marcus by the lapel of his tailored suit, pulling him forward until their faces were inches apart. "A standard procedure that almost cost us everything because my seven-year-old daughter decided to play detective at her mother's funeral. If the police get their hands on whatever Clara downloaded from my office terminal, I won't just ruin you, Marcus. You'll spend the next twenty years sharing a cell with violent offenders."
"Derek, let him go," Eleanor commanded sharply, stepping between them. Her voice carried the unmistakable weight of matriarchal authority that even Derek had been conditioned to obey since childhood. "Threatening our staff in the middle of the estate won't recover what was lost. We need a strategy, not a public spectacle."
Derek slowly released Marcus’s lapel, smoothing the fabric with a cold, deliberate gesture. He turned away, walking toward the large bay window that looked out over the foggy cliffs. "The police are already drafting a search warrant," Derek said, his voice hollow and distant. "Henderson told them about the flash drive Clara dropped off at his office. They know it exists. The only question left is whether it's still in the house."
Marcus adjusted his tie, his hands trembling slightly. "The girl... Lily still has her doll."
Derek’s head snapped around, his dark eyes locking onto Marcus. A slow, terrifying realization settled over his features. "The doll," he whispered. "Clara spent hours in the nursery on Monday afternoon. I thought she was just mending a seam."
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"If the police secure the house before we take that doll," Marcus warned, "the encryption on that drive will be bypassed within an hour by the cybercrimes unit."
Derek didn't hesitate. He turned on his heel, striding past his mother and out of the study without another word, heading straight down the long corridor toward the children's wing.
