Chapter 5 - The North Wing Secret
The north wing of the Grayson mansion was rarely used. It had once served as quarters for domestic staff decades ago, before the family downsized and automated most of the estate's maintenance. Now, it was a labyrinth of dusty corridors, unused linen closets, and servant stairwells that smelled of mothballs and history.
I moved through the shadows with the stealth I had mastered during years of sneaking out of abusive foster homes, my steps light and calculated.
Vivian’s private quarters were located at the far end of the second-floor corridor, a luxurious suite overlooking the greenhouse and the private rose gardens.
As I approached the heavy mahogany door, I noticed a faint line of amber light spilling out from beneath the crack at the bottom.
She's still awake.
I pressed my ear against the wood. Inside, the muffled sound of a phone conversation drifted out, the tone frantic, angry, and sharp.
"...I don't care about the police, Marcus! If that wretched nanny found the master ledger in Amelia's old hiding spot, everything we built over the last three years is gone! Nathaniel will tear us limb from limb!"
A pause. Then a harsh, cynical laugh.
"No, we don't wait for morning. I've already loosened the brake lines on his second-tier Land Rover in the carriage house. Make it look like a tragic accident on the winding pass. Just like Amelia's car."
My stomach plummeted into an abyss of pure, icy horror.
Amelia hadn't slipped on the terrace.
Amelia hadn't died of a natural accident.
Vivian had murdered her sister. And now she was planning to do the exact same thing to Nathaniel.
I didn't hesitate. I raised my foot and slammed it squarely against the antique brass lock of the door.
CRACK.
The old wood splintered instantly under the force. The door flew inward, crashing against the interior wall with a deafening bang.
Vivian spun around from her mahogany vanity desk, a silver-plated cell phone flying from her hand to clatter across the Persian rug. Her perfectly styled blonde hair was slightly ruffled, her eyes wide with shock and sudden, venomous hatred.
May you like
"You," she hissed, her voice losing all its sweet, aristocratic pretense, turning into the snarl of a cornered animal.
"Me," I replied, stepping into the room and closing the door behind me with a quiet, deliberate click. "And the conversation is over, Vivian."
