Chapter 2 - THE COURTYARD CONFRONTATION
Outside on the grand cobblestone courtyard, three fire engines were just pulling up the winding gravel driveway, their red lights flashing against the dark Rhode Island night sky.
The Sterling family stood near the marble fountain, wrapped in fur coats and cashmere blankets provided by the emergency responders.
Richard Sterling, the seventy-two-year-old patriarch and billionaire oil tycoon, stood sipping brandy from a crystal glass handed to him by his assistant, his face impassive as he watched his ancestral estate burn. Beside him, Eleanor Sterling was dabbing fake tears from her eyes with a silk handkerchief while talking to a local news reporter.
"It was so sudden!" Eleanor wept dramatically for the camera. "We tried to reach the upper floor, but the flames were simply too intense! My poor, tragic nephew... he was always so frail..."
"Are you speaking about me, Aunt Eleanor?!"
The reporter turned. The fire captain froze.
Walking out of the black smoke billowers framing the grand arched doorway was Clara Hayes. Her face was smeared with ash, her hands blistered, but her posture was as unyielding as iron. Resting securely in her arms was Leo, clutching his wooden box, breathing fresh air deeply into his lungs.
Eleanor’s handkerchief dropped from her trembling fingers. Her face went entirely pale, her jaw dropping in absolute terror.
Richard Sterling’s brandy glass slipped from his hand, shattering against the cobblestones.
"He's alive..." Eleanor gasped, stepping back as if she were looking at a ghost. "How... how did you..."
Clara marched straight past the paramedics, past the police officers, stopping five feet in front of Richard and Eleanor. She gently set Leo down on a warm stretcher brought over by two paramedics, but she never broke eye contact with the matriarch.
"The brass bar on his door was locked from the outside, Eleanor," Clara said, her voice echoing clearly over the sound of crackling flames and roaring fire engines. "And his braces were cut with a knife."
The news reporter’s eyes widened, immediately signaling his cameraman to zoom in on Clara and Eleanor.
"What are you implying, housekeeper?!" Richard stepped forward, his booming voice attempting to reclaim control. "You are hysterical! The fire has clearly addled your mind! You should be grateful we don't fire you on the spot for slander!"
"Check his room when the fire is out, Chief," Clara turned her head to address the Newport Fire Chief standing nearby. "Check the outer security brackets on the west wing master suite. And check the security cameras near the butler's pantry."
"The security cameras were destroyed by the fire, you foolish woman," Eleanor spat, her composure cracking, revealing the sharp, bitter venom beneath her polished high-society exterior.
"No, they weren't," Leo spoke up from the stretcher. His voice was small, but every person in the courtyard heard it.
He held up the small wooden box he had saved from the flames.
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"My dad installed a private server box inside his old closet before he died," Leo said, his brown eyes looking directly at his grandfather. "It backs up to a cloud drive every ten minutes. It recorded Aunt Eleanor locking my door."
Silence fell over the courtyard, heavier than the smoke rising into the sky.
