Chapter 6 - The Sick Mother's Legacy
Mia peeked out from behind Mr. Duca's leg, her wide eyes staring at the massive iron vault door. "The knocking came from inside that box, Mr. Duca."
Mr. Duca took a step toward Marcus, his towering presence filling the damp stone room. "Open it. Right now."
"Sir, the combination was changed six months ago by Julian's legal estate trustees," Marcus stammered, pulling a key card from his belt. "They told me it was an offline archive for old financial ledgers!"
"Open it, Marcus, or I execute you where you stand for treason against this house," Mr. Duca growled softly, his voice sharp as a razor.
Marcus’s hands trembled violently as he punched an emergency override sequence into the electronic keypad mounted beside the wheel.
The heavy iron locking bars retracted with a loud, metallic CLANG.
Mr. Duca stepped forward, grabbing the heavy wheel, and pulled the iron vault door open.
Inside the small, climate-controlled room lay stacks of archived leather folders, vintage safes, and a simple cot set against the far stone wall. Sitting on the cot, wrapped in a heavy wool blanket, was an elderly woman with silver hair, fair rosy skin, and piercing blue eyes that mirrored Mia’s own features.
Mia gasped, her tiny hands flying to her mouth. "Aunt Eleanor?!"
The elderly woman looked up, tears welling in her tired eyes as she saw the little girl. "Mia... my sweet child... you heard me..."
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Mr. Duca froze, staring from the elderly woman to six-year-old Mia. "Aunt Eleanor? You are Grace Harper's mother?"
"I am Eleanor Harper, Mr. Duca," the woman whispered, her voice weak but filled with profound dignity. "Thirty years ago, your uncle Julian stole the original deed to the Beacon Hill shipping terminals from my late husband. He hid me down here when Grace took the maid position to keep my family from ever claiming our fifty percent share of the land."
