Chapter 5 - The Heirship Clause
"Check the locks on the ground level," Victoria’s voice carried clearly through the damp morning air, sharp and imperious. "Arthur says the district attorney is trying to expand the search warrant to include the secondary structures by three o'clock. We have two hours to clear out Julian’s old files."
"Mom, are you sure about this?" Trevor’s voice was whining, pathetic. "If the police catch us moving documents—"
"The police won't catch us doing anything, Trevor, because the police are currently chasing Margaret Ellis in upstate New York thanks to the tip Arthur planted with the state troopers," Victoria snapped. "Stop sniveling. Your father kept duplicate copies of the trust agreements up there. If Claire’s attorneys get their hands on the original 1994 covenants before the probate hearing, the trust assets will be frozen indefinitely."
Footsteps pounded on the stone threshold below. The heavy ground-floor door swung open.
I backed away from the window, my mind racing at light speed. The spiral staircase was the only way down. If they came up the stairs, I was trapped in Julian’s study with no exit except a twenty-foot drop onto jagged flagstones below.
I looked at the open safe.
The four ledgers. The microcassettes. The autopsy file.
I pulled off my heavy woolen sweater and tied the sleeves together, fashioning an impromptu sling. I shoved the medical dossier, the four microcassettes, and the most recent ledger into the sweater, slinging it over my shoulder. The remaining ledgers were too heavy—they would have to wait.
"Trevor, bring the banker's boxes from the trunk," Victoria commanded from the bottom of the spiral stairs. Her heels began clicking against the first wooden step. "And hurry. I want this room gutted before the weather turns."
I looked around Julian’s office. To the left of the stone fireplace stood an antique armoire used for storing heavy hunting coats and outdoor gear. The door was slightly ajar.
I slipped inside the armoire just as Victoria’s head appeared at the top of the spiral staircase.
Through the narrow slit between the wooden doors, I watched her enter the room.
She paused at the top of the landing, pulling off her leather gloves. She didn't look like a woman mourning her grandchildren. She looked like an executive inspecting an underperforming branch office. She walked directly toward Julian’s portrait, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the frame was swung slightly outward.
"Trevor!" she barked.
Trevor reached the top of the stairs, out of breath, carrying two cardboard banker's boxes. "What? What is it?"
"The safe," Victoria hissed, stepping behind the painting. "The painting is open."
Trevor dropped the boxes. "What? How? Nobody has the combination except—"
"Margaret," Victoria spat, her face twisting with sudden rage. "That miserable, thieving bitch. She wasn't just at the church to cause a scene. She was buying time."
Victoria lunged toward the open safe, peering inside. Her hands violently dragged the remaining ledgers out, throwing them onto Julian’s desk.
"The medical file," Victoria whispered, her voice trembling with the first real note of panic I had heard from her. "The Farmington coroner’s preliminary report... it’s gone."
"Mom... what medical file?" Trevor asked, his brow furrowing as he approached the desk. "You told me the safe only contained father’s corporate tax filings and the foundation’s Cayman transfer logs."
Victoria didn't answer him. She spun around, her eyes scanning the dusty floorboards of the study.
And then she saw them.
My footprints. Fresh, damp impressions in the seven-year-old layer of gray dust, leading from the spiral staircase directly to the safe—and then straight toward the hunting armoire.
Victoria’s gaze slowly followed the tracks across the floor, stopping inches from the wooden doors where I stood holding my breath, my heart hammering so hard against my ribs I thought the wood would splinter.
A slow, terrifying smile spread across Victoria’s red lips.
"Trevor," she said softly, her voice dripping with venomous sweetness. "Lock the staircase door."
Trevor blinked. "What? Why?"
"Do it. Now."
Trevor turned and moved toward the top of the landing.
Victoria reached into her camel-hair coat. She didn't pull out a little silver spoon. She pulled out a sleek, black semi-automatic pistol—a Walther PPK that Julian had kept in the master bedroom nightstand.
She leveled the gun directly at the armoire doors.
"You really should have taken the settlement, Claire," Victoria said, raising her voice so it echoed off the cedar rafters. "A girl from South Boston never did understand how real families protect their bloodlines."
I didn't wait for her to pull the trigger.
I threw my entire weight against the armoire doors, bursting outward with a roar of pure maternal fury. The heavy oak doors struck Victoria’s outstretched arm, knocking the gun sideways just as the weapon discharged with a deafening *CRACK*.
The bullet shattered the glass of Julian’s bookcase behind us, raining crystals down onto the carpet.
Victoria shrieked, stumbling backward over the cardboard boxes. The gun skittered across the floorboards, sliding toward the spiral staircase.
Trevor screamed, falling to his knees at the landing, hands over his ears.
I didn't stop to fight her. I had the ledger. I had the medical file. I had the confession that would put her in the execution chamber. I sprinted toward the landing, leaping over Trevor’s cowering body, and flew down the wooden spiral staircase three steps at a time.
"Shoot her!" Victoria screamed from the top of the stairs. "Trevor, pick up the gun and shoot her! She has the Farmington file! If she leaves this property, you will spend the rest of your life in federal prison!"
I hit the ground floor of the carriage house, bursting through the side entrance into the freezing Greenwich rain.
May you like
Behind me, the sound of boots scrambled down the stairs, but I didn't look back. I sprinted through the overgrown rhododendrons, clutching the makeshift sling to my chest, my feet tearing through the mud as I raced toward the stone wall and the Subaru waiting in the mist.
***
