Chapter 5 - Whispers and Vultures
News of the secret room spread like wildfire among the estate staff, filtered through the gossiping whispers of maids and groundskeepers. By Saturday afternoon, Richard Vance himself arrived unannounced at the Greenwich estate, stepping out of a sleek black Mercedes with an oily, confident smile plastered across his face.
"Julian! My man," Vance boomed as Sanders reluctantly let him into the grand foyer. "I was passing by and thought I'd check in. The board is getting anxious about the quarterly shipping reports. You’ve been locked up in this mausoleum long enough."
Julian descended the grand staircase slowly. He wore a tailored black three-piece suit, his posture rigid as steel, his eyes as cold as arctic ice. He looked less like a grieving widower and more like an executioner.
"Richard," Julian said smoothly, stepping onto the marble floor. "I was just reviewing some old files. Family history. It's amazing what you find when you start digging beneath the surface."
Vance’s smile flickered for a fraction of a second—just long enough for Julian to catch it. "Oh? Old history is best left buried, don't you think? We have a massive merger coming up in Singapore. That's what matters."
"Does it?" Julian stepped closer, towering over the corporate executive. "Tell me, Richard, how is your memory regarding Route 91? Five years ago. A rainy Tuesday night. My wife’s brakes failed. Funny thing... the police report mentioned nothing about brake line tampering. But a private vault in this house tells a very different story."
Vance’s face drained of color. The oily charm vanished, replaced by a cornered rat's panic. He took a step back toward the iron doors. "You're delusional, Hargrove. Grief has rotted your brain. If you try anything, the board will strip you of your shares before nightfall."
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"Try me," Julian whispered, his voice dripping with lethal calm.
Before Vance could reply, Sofia wandered out of the hallway holding a crayon drawing, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw the angry men. Vance glanced down at the little girl, a dark, sinister light flashing in his eyes. He realized the game was up, and desperate men do desperate things.
