Chapter 6 - the shadow on the stairs
Caleb's head snapped toward the dark attic doorway. "Who's there?!"
Heavy footsteps echoed down the wooden stairs as a shadow moved quickly toward the second-floor gallery.
Caleb ran to the doorway, peering out into the dimly lit stairwell. Standing near the landing below was Julian's personal private assistant, holding a small tablet with a camera lens still lit up in green!
"He was listening!" Caleb growled, turning back to Arthur. "Julian's man was spying on us!"
Arthur wiped his tears, his stern, unshakeable demeanor instantly returning like a wall of solid iron. He reached into his wool cardigan, pulling out his private mobile phone, dialing his head of estate security.
"Marcus," Arthur commanded in a lethal, quiet register. "Lock down the main gates. Seize Julian Whitmore's private assistant in the east wing immediately. Take his tablet and his phone."
Ten minutes later, the entire mansion was plunged into a state of high alert. Security guards in dark suits guarded every exit, while Arthur, Caleb, and Dr. Harrison assembled in the master study on the ground floor.
Grace sat in a wheelchair near the fireplace, wrapped in a warm blanket, her long brown hair flowing over her shoulders, her brown eyes filled with quiet strength as she held Annie's hand.
Sitting behind his dark mahogany desk, Arthur opened the false bottom of the antique study chest that Eleanor's letter had described.
Inside lay a thick, leather-bound accounting ledger from 2014—stamped with Julian Whitmore's private corporate seal—detailing over fourteen million dollars in fraudulent offshore transfers.
"It's all here," Dr. Harrison whispered in awe, reviewing the financial figures. "This is absolute legal proof of grand corporate theft and extortion."
"Julian knew we were looking for this," Caleb said, standing beside his grandfather's desk. "That's why his assistant was watching the attic."
Suddenly, the heavy study doors were pushed open!
Julian Whitmore marched into the room, flanked by two corporate attorneys in dark suits. His charcoal jacket was disheveled, his eyes wild with desperate rage.
"Arthur!" Julian roared, slamming a legal folder onto the desk. "This lockdown is an illegal restriction of my executive freedom! I have an emergency injunction from the state court halting any alteration to the Whitmore trust until the board meets tomorrow morning!"
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Arthur didn't raise his voice. He stood up slowly from his desk, leaning both hands flat on the mahogany surface, looking down at his nephew with cold, absolute disdain.
"You're thirty minutes too late, Julian," Arthur said, his deep voice carrying a quiet, terrifying thunder. "The board meeting isn't tomorrow morning. It has been moved to tonight."
