Chapter 7 - THE IRON KEY
A hand clamped over my mouth, suffocating my scream.
I was yanked backward, away from the mahogany desk.
My shoulder slammed into the wall of the dressing room.
I looked up.
Marcus was standing over me.
His eyes were cold, lifeless pits.
He placed a finger to his lips, gesturing toward the sleeping Victoria in the next room.
“Not a sound, little bird,” Marcus whispered.
He snatched the photograph from my trembling hand.
He looked at it, then slipped it into his jacket pocket.
“You just couldn't keep to your brooms, could you?”
He grabbed my arm with bruising force and dragged me out of the master suite, down the back staircase, and shoved me into David’s private study.
David was standing by his desk, waiting for me.
When he saw Marcus dragging me, David’s eyes widened in shock.
“Marcus? What are you doing?”
Marcus shoved me into a leather chair.
“I caught her, sir,” Marcus lied flawlessly. “I was doing my midnight rounds. I caught Clara trying to break into your private safe.”
David looked at me.
Then he looked at Marcus.
I saw the realization hit David like a freight train.
He had trusted Marcus for years.
Now, Marcus was standing between us, holding all the power.
If David accused Marcus now, Marcus was armed.
Marcus had the security codes.
He could kill us both and claim I attacked David.
David had to play the game.
David’s expression hardened into a mask of pure fury.
He pointed a finger at me.
“Is this true, Clara?” David yelled.
My heart broke.
I knew he was acting, but it still hurt to hear.
“I… I didn't—”
“Enough!” David roared. “After everything I’ve done for you! After I protected you from Victoria!”
Marcus smirked, leaning against the doorframe.
“I told you she was no good, Mr. Vance.”
David turned his back to me.
“Get her out of my house, Marcus. Throw her out the front gates. If she comes back, call the police.”
Tears streamed down my face.
“Please, Mr. Vance.”
“Get out!”
Marcus grabbed me by the collar and hauled me out of the study.
He dragged me through the grand foyer, past the spot on the stairs where I had saved Leo.
He opened the heavy oak doors and threw me out onto the stone driveway.
I scraped my hands on the pavement.
“Stay away, Clara,” Marcus sneered. “Or your mother loses her physical therapy. Permanently.”
He slammed the doors shut.
I sat on the cold stone, weeping.
I had failed.
David was trapped inside a house guarded by a man stealing from him, engaged to a woman trying to ruin him.
And I was locked out.
I slowly stood up, shivering in the cool night air.
I started walking down the long, winding driveway toward the front gates.
Suddenly, the side door of the garage opened.
Thomas, David’s elderly, loyal driver, stepped out of the shadows.
He held a finger to his lips.
He hurried over to me and draped a heavy wool coat over my shoulders.
“Mr. Vance told me to give you this,” Thomas whispered quickly. “He said to check the pockets.”
Before I could ask any questions, Thomas hurried back into the garage and locked the door.
I stood under the streetlamp near the gates.
I plunged my freezing hands into the pockets of the wool coat.
My fingers brushed against cold metal.
I pulled it out.
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It was a heavy, antique iron key.
And attached to the keyring was a small, black USB flash drive.
