Chapter 6 - The Secret Room
Leo glided into the dark room, his small hands working the push rims of his chair with silent precision.
“Leo! What are you doing? How did you get out here?” Maggie whispered frantically, rushing over and dropping to her knees beside him.
“The balcony connects my room to yours,” Leo said, his dark eyes wide in the moonlight. “There’s a small ledge. I used the wooden boards from my ramp to bridge the gap.”
Maggie stared at him in utter disbelief. “You bridged a second-story balcony gap with wood ramps? Leo, that’s insane! You could have fallen!”
“I’m fine,” Leo said impatiently. “I heard Evelyn talking to Dr. Vane on the landline downstairs while dad was out in the courtyard.”
Maggie’s heart stopped. “What? Dr. Vane?”
“Evelyn thought everyone was asleep,” Leo explained, leaning close to her. “She was angry. She said, 'The bank papers worked, he locked her up. Send the secondary dosage tonight before Dominic changes his mind.' Then she said something about a safe in her office.”
Maggie’s brain raced at lightning speed. Send the secondary dosage tonight.
“She’s going to poison him again,” Maggie whispered, horror pooling in her stomach. “She doesn't want you recovering, Leo. If you recover, Dominic doesn't need a full-time residential manager. Evelyn loses her control over this house!”
“Evelyn has a secret key,” Leo said. “In her office behind the painting of the lake. I saw her use it once when she thought I was sleeping. She keeps papers in there.”
Maggie looked at the locked bedroom door, then at Leo. “Leo, I need to get into Evelyn’s office.”
“The balcony stairs lead down to the garden,” Leo said, a fierce, determined glint in his young eyes. “Evelyn’s office has French doors on the ground floor. But Frank is patrolling the hallway.”
“Then we don't use the hallway,” Maggie said, her fear instantly vanishing, replaced by a cold, sharp resolve. She looked at Leo. “Can you unlock the garden door from the inside if I lower you down?”
“I can do it,” Leo said without a second of hesitation.
Ten minutes later, Maggie was sliding down the heavy metal drainpipe on the side of the east wing, landing softly in the thick garden mulch. Leo was already at the ground-floor French doors of Evelyn’s private office, having used the exterior wheelchair ramp.
Using a small plastic hair clip, Leo picked the simple glass door latch—a trick he proudly whispered he had learned from one of his father’s bodyguards.
The door clicked open.
Maggie slipped into the pitch-black office, her heart pounding against her ribs like a sledgehammer. “Where’s the painting?”
Leo pointed a small pocket flashlight toward the wall. A massive oil painting of Lake Geneva hung above a mahogany bookshelf.
Maggie hurried over. She pushed the heavy frame aside. Beneath it sat a vintage, brass dial safe.
“Great,” Maggie muttered. “A combination safe. I’m a physical therapist, not a safecracker.”
“Try 04-12-19,” Leo whispered from the doorway.
Maggie looked at him, amazed. “How do you know that?”
“It’s my mother’s birthday,” Leo said quietly. “Evelyn uses it for everything.”
Maggie quickly turned the brass dial.
Left to 04... Right to 12... Left to 19...
CLICK.
The heavy iron door swung open.
Maggie reached inside and pulled out a thick velvet binder. Inside were not just bank records—there were real medical journals, legal documents, and a small glass vial containing a clear liquid labeled Neuromuscular Suppressant B-4.
Maggie flipped through the legal documents under the light of Leo’s flashlight. Her jaw dropped in absolute shock.
It wasn't a frame job to protect the house. It was a hostile takeover.
Evelyn Price was not just the manager of the estate. She was the sister of Isabella Moretti—Dominic’s deceased wife. And according to Isabella’s secret will held in the safe, if Dominic died or was deemed unfit due to criminal indictment, total legal guardianship of Leo—and control of the $400 million Moretti Trust—defaulted to Evelyn Price.
The wire transfers to Maggie’s account hadn't come from O’Malley. They had come from an account managed by Evelyn herself, routed through shell companies to mimic an O’Malley signature.
“She’s been poisoning you to keep the trust fund active,” Maggie whispered, her skin crawling with disgust. “And she was going to frame your dad for negligence.”
“Well, well, well.”
The lights in the office suddenly slammed on, blinding them.
May you like
Evelyn Price stood in the doorway, holding a small, elegant pearl-handled pistol. Her eyes were wide, unhinged, and brimming with lethal malice.
“You really are a meddling bitch, aren't you, Maggie?” Evelyn hissed, raising the gun directly at Maggie’s chest.
