Chapter 4 - The Lion's Den
The Sterling estate loomed in the distance like a gothic fortress against the moonlit sky. It was past midnight. Elena crouched behind the thick oak trees bordering the property, shivering in the cool night air. Her orange maid uniform made her too visible, but she had no time to change. She knew the estate’s security patrol patterns by heart—after all, she had worked here, scrubbing its floors and dusting its secrets, for two years.
She watched as the headlights of a security jeep swept past the iron gates. As soon as it turned the corner, Elena sprinted across the manicured lawn. She didn't head for the front door. Instead, she slipped around the back to the greenhouse.
Victoria had loved the greenhouse. It was her sanctuary away from Charles. It was also where she kept the spare key to the servant’s entrance, hidden inside an empty terra-cotta pot. Elena retrieved the cold brass key, slipped it into the lock of the heavy oak door, and turned it. It clicked softly.
She slipped inside, enveloped in the familiar, oppressive silence of the mansion. The air felt heavy, tainted by the events of the past few days. Elena crept through the servant corridors, moving like a ghost toward the main wing.
If Charles had poisoned Victoria to inherit her fortune, he wouldn't have done it without ensuring the will was firmly in his favor. But Victoria’s letter had mentioned something else. “I knew he was plotting something. I’ve hidden the real will, and the adoption papers, in the place where the light only hits at dawn.”
The place where the light only hits at dawn.
Elena racked her brain. The east wing. The library. There was a stained-glass window in the library that caught the morning sun, casting a crimson shadow across the floor. Specifically, across a portrait of Victoria’s father.
She quietly climbed the grand staircase, avoiding the fourth step which she knew creaked loudly. As she reached the landing, she heard voices. Muffled, coming from Charles's study down the hall.
Elena froze, pressing her back against the velvet wallpaper. She crept closer to the cracked door of the study. Inside, Charles was pacing, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. His lawyer, Vance, sat on the leather sofa.
"The police are looking for the maid," Vance said. "But the hospital won't release Victoria to Dr. Thorne. They've placed her under police protection in the ICU. She's waking up, Charles. If she talks..."
"She won't talk," Charles snapped, downing the whiskey. "The dose Thorne gave her caused severe neurological trauma. She’s likely brain-damaged. Even if she babbles about poison, they'll write it off as paranoia. But we need to secure the assets. Did you find the updated will?"
"No," Vance replied. "The safe was empty. If the original will stands, she leaves everything to her 'long-lost daughter' upon her death. We have to find those documents before the police search this house."
Elena’s breath hitched. So Charles didn't have the papers.
She backed away from the study and hurried down the hall to the library. The room was pitch black. She clicked on a small penlight she found in the kitchen, sweeping the beam across the massive bookshelves. She found the portrait of Victoria’s father. She walked up to it, examining the heavy wooden frame.
The place where the light only hits at dawn.
She ran her fingers along the bottom edge of the frame. There was a small groove. She pressed it, and the portrait swung outward on a hidden hinge, revealing a small wall safe.
It was a combination lock. Elena bit her lip. Victoria’s birthday? No, too obvious. Charles would have tried that.
Elena thought about the letter. You are the child I was forced to give away twenty-four years ago.
Elena's birthday. October 14th. 1014.
She spun the dial. 1-0-1-4.
Click.
The heavy metal door swung open. Inside lay a thick manila envelope and a small glass vial with a handwritten label. Elena pulled them out. The envelope contained a legal document—Victoria’s true last will and testament, leaving her entire estate to Elena Ramirez, confirmed by an attached DNA test. The vial contained a clear liquid. It was the rest of the paralyzing toxin, hidden by Victoria as evidence against her husband.
"Brilliant woman, wasn't she?"
May you like
Elena whirled around, dropping her penlight.
Charles stood in the doorway of the library, holding a silver-plated revolver. He clicked the hammer back, the sound echoing loudly in the silent room. "I knew you'd come back here like a rat returning to the maze."
