Chapter 6 - THE MUSIC BOX AND THE MASTERMIND
Marcus Sterling looked entirely out of place in the sterile, dilapidated nursing home room. He wore a bespoke navy suit, his silver hair perfectly styled, looking exactly as he did when he stood beside Eleanor at the gala, advising her on tax loopholes and charity donations.
But the suppressed pistol in his hand completely shattered the illusion of the polite family attorney.
"Marcus?" Daniel said, his voice laced with disbelief. "You work for the Board?"
Marcus offered a tight, sympathetic smile. "I am the Board, Daniel. I have been since your father died. Thorne is merely my blunt instrument." He gestured slightly with the gun. "Now, step away from the woman, Daniel. You don't need to die for her."
"You poisoned him," my mother said. Her voice wasn't weak or clouded by dementia. In this moment of terrifying clarity, she was the fierce woman who had survived twenty-four years of hiding. "You killed Richard."
"Richard was a fool," Marcus sighed, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him with his foot. "He was going to destroy a multi-billion dollar enterprise for love. He was going to hand the embezzlement files over to the SEC. I simply protected the company's assets."
"By framing an innocent woman," I snarled, placing my body between Marcus and my mother.
Marcus looked at me, his eyes dropping to the silver swallow pendant resting against my collarbone.
"Ah. The famous necklace," Marcus murmured. "Eleanor mentioned Sarah gave it to you. I always wondered why Richard was so obsessed with that cheap piece of silver before he died." He extended his free hand. "Take it off, Lena. Hand it over."
My hand flew to the pendant. The key isn't for a door. It's for the swallow.
My mother’s words echoed in my mind. The pendant wasn't solid silver. It was thicker than a normal charm, with a tiny, almost invisible seam along the bird’s wing. It wasn't just a necklace. It was a locket. And Thorne had the tarnished key to open it.
"I don't have the key," I said, my voice shaking. "Thorne took it in the locker room."
Marcus’s smile widened. "I know. Thorne is downstairs dealing with the nursing staff. He already gave me the key."
Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out the tiny, tarnished silver key. He held it up in the dim light.
"I'm not asking for the key, Lena," Marcus said coldly. "I'm asking for the necklace. If you hand it to me, I promise your mother’s death will be quick. If you resist, I’ll let Thorne handle it. And he enjoys his work."
"Don't do it, Lena," Daniel said quietly, stepping to my side. He didn't look at Marcus. He was looking around the dark room, his eyes scanning the medical equipment, the IV stand, the heavy metal oxygen tank in the corner.
"You're a brave boy, Daniel," Marcus chuckled. "But bravery won't stop a bullet. You were always too much like Richard, even if you don't share his blood."
"Why did you let Eleanor buy me?" Daniel asked, keeping Marcus talking. He inched his foot toward the oxygen tank. "If you wanted control of the company, why let her fake an heir?"
Marcus laughed, a dry, hollow sound. "Eleanor needed a prop to secure her position in the trust. I provided one. Where do you think she got you, Daniel? She didn't go to a black-market adoption agency. She came to me. I found a desperate young woman at a clinic who needed money. I facilitated the transaction. You were my insurance policy. As long as you were the heir, I controlled Eleanor. Because I knew the secret."
Daniel’s face contorted with disgust. The man who had acted as his mentor, his godfather, had orchestrated his entire fraudulent existence.
"You're a monster," Daniel whispered.
"I'm a pragmatist," Marcus corrected. He leveled the gun at my mother's head. "The necklace. Now."
I reached behind my neck, my fingers trembling as they fumbled with the clasp. I couldn't let him kill my mother. I unhooked the chain and held the silver swallow out toward him.
Marcus took a step forward to grab it.
"Now!" Daniel roared.
Daniel kicked the heavy, metal oxygen tank. It didn't hit Marcus, but it crashed violently to the linoleum floor, the valve snapping off. Highly pressurized oxygen hissed out in a deafening scream, blowing medical papers and curtains across the room.
Marcus flinched, instinctively raising his arm to shield his face from the blast of air.
I didn't think. I acted.
I grabbed the heavy, wooden music box sitting on my mother’s nightstand—the one playing a faint lullaby—and swung it with every ounce of strength I had gained from carrying heavy trays for years.
The solid mahogany box connected squarely with the side of Marcus’s head.
The wood splintered. Marcus grunted in pain, dropping the gun as he stumbled backward into the wall.
Daniel was on him in a second. He tackled the older man, driving his knee into Marcus’s chest and pinning him to the floor. Marcus struggled, pulling a hidden folding knife from his jacket pocket, but Daniel grabbed his wrist, slamming it against the floor until Marcus cried out and dropped the blade.
I scrambled to the floor, snatching the dropped gun and backing away, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I pointed the weapon at the lawyer.
"Stay down!" I screamed.
Marcus lay pinned beneath Daniel, a trickle of blood running down his temple. He looked up at me, gasping for breath, and let out a dark, ragged laugh.
"You think you've won?" Marcus wheezed. "Thorne is right downstairs. He heard the crash. He's coming up. And he will butcher all three of you."
Daniel looked at me, panic flashing in his eyes. We had the gun, but neither of us knew how to use it, and Thorne was a trained killer.
"Lena, the key!" my mother cried out from her chair.
I looked down. When Marcus fell, the tarnished silver key had dropped onto the rug. I scooped it up.
I held the silver swallow pendant in my trembling hands, inserted the tiny key into the invisible seam, and turned it.
With a soft click, the silver bird popped open.
Inside the hollow pendant wasn't a ledger. There wasn't a map.
There was a tiny, tightly rolled piece of microfilm and a micro-SD card.
"Richard's insurance," Marcus sneered from the floor. "He digitized the ledger before I killed him. The necklace was the vault."
Footsteps pounded heavily in the hallway outside. Heavy, methodical steps. Thorne.
"He's here," Daniel said, tightening his grip on Marcus. "Lena, take your mother and go out the window to the fire escape. I'll hold him off."
"I'm not leaving you!" I yelled.
The doorknob turned. The door swung open slowly.
I raised the gun, bracing myself for the massive security chief.
But it wasn't Thorne who stepped into the room.
It was Eleanor Harrington.
She was soaking wet, her expensive gala gown ruined by the rain, her hair plastered to her face. In her right hand, she held a silver revolver.
She looked at me holding a gun. She looked at Marcus pinned to the floor. She looked at her sister, Sarah, sitting in the chair.
May you like
Then, Eleanor raised her revolver and pointed it directly at Daniel's chest.
"Let him go, Daniel," Eleanor commanded, her voice terrifyingly calm. "Or I will shoot you myself."
