Chapter 4 - The Library Interrogation
The library of the Whitmore Estate was panelled in dark mahogany, lined with thousands of leather-bound books that nobody ever read. It smelled of expensive tobacco, aged scotch, and fear.
When I pushed open the double doors, the entire Whitmore power structure was assembled.
At the center of the room stood Charles Whitmore, Daniel's father—a powerful state judge whose political career was built on an unblemished reputation for strict morality and law enforcement. He looked furious, his silver hair immaculate, his face flushed red above his stiff collar.
Beside him sat Eleanor, clutching a lace handkerchief, looking like a victim who had been dragged into a gutter. Daniel stood near the cold fireplace, holding his bourbon glass like a shield.
"Close the door, Maya," Charles commanded, his voice carrying the full weight of a courtroom magistrate.
I closed the mahogany door behind me and leaned against it, crossing my arms over my ruined dress.
"What is the meaning of this spectacle?!" Charles thundered, pointing a finger at my chest. "You walked down the aisle of St. Jude's looking like a street vagrant! You humiliated my wife! You embarrassed our family in front of the lieutenant governor!"
"Ask your wife why the dress looks like this, Charles," I said coldly.
Charles turned his glare toward Eleanor. "Eleanor said there was an accident in the bridal suite! A tipped trash container!"
"Eleanor poured sour kitchen waste over my gown three hours before the ceremony," I corrected him. "She left a note folded in the lace telling me to 'know my place.' Would you like to see the note, Charles? I had Tessa photograph it next to Eleanor's signature on her charity committee letterhead. The handwriting matches perfectly."
Charles froze. He turned slowly to look down at his wife. "Eleanor... is this true?"
Eleanor pulled her handkerchief to her eyes, bursting into theatrical sobs. "She’s a liar, Charles! She's a low-class, gold-digging manipulative little snake! She destroyed the dress herself to frame me! She wants to ruin our family!"
"I don't need to frame you to ruin you, Eleanor," I said softly.
May you like
I reached into my small bridal clutch bag, pulled out a encrypted silver flash drive, and tossed it onto the glass coffee table in the center of the room.
It landed with a sharp clack.
