Chapter 8 - The Locked Door
Arthur pocketed the iron key.
“Did you honestly believe you could outsmart me in my own home?” Arthur sneered, stepping further into the room. He reached behind him and turned the brass lock on the dining room doors.
A heavy click echoed in the space.
Nico immediately stepped in front of Celeste, his body tense. “Open that door, Arthur.”
“I will,” Arthur said calmly. “As soon as we come to an understanding.”
“There is no understanding,” Nico said, his voice rising. “You’re a murderer. You killed Evelyn. You killed my mother.”
“I protected this family’s legacy!” Arthur snapped, the veneer of the polite businessman finally shattering. “Do you know what would have happened if those ledgers went public thirty years ago? The company would have folded! We would have lost everything!”
“So you traded two lives for a bank account,” Celeste said, her voice shaking with disgust.
Arthur looked at her with pure contempt. “You are exactly like your mother. Ungrateful. Greedy. I gave her a roof over her head, and she tried to steal from me.”
“She tried to survive you!” I yelled.
I didn't know where the courage came from, but I couldn't stay quiet anymore. That was my aunt he was talking about.
Arthur’s eyes darted to me. He looked me up and down, recognizing the maid's uniform.
“And you,” Arthur laughed bitterly. “The little rat who crawled into my house to spy. I should have fired you the day you applied.”
“You don't get to speak to her,” Nico warned, taking a step toward his uncle.
Arthur reached inside his tailored suit jacket.
For one terrifying second, I thought he was pulling out a weapon. My heart stopped.
But he didn't pull out a gun.
He pulled out his cell phone.
“I already made a phone call while you were all having your touching little reunion,” Arthur said, holding the phone up. “The bank manager at First Chicago is a very good friend of mine. He owes me his career. He is currently walking down to the vault to drill the lock on Rosa’s box.”
Rosa gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “No. You can't.”
“By midnight,” Arthur smiled, “the ledgers and that pathetic letter will be incinerated. And tomorrow morning, I am calling an emergency board meeting to strip you of your shares, Nico, due to emotional instability.”
Nico clenched his fists. “The board won't listen to you.”
“They will when I show them the psychiatric hold I’m placing on you tonight,” Arthur said smoothly. “A tragic break from reality. Driven mad by the stress of the wedding.”
It was perfectly planned. Cold. Ruthless. Arthur had survived thirty years of guilt by being three steps ahead of everyone else.
Celeste grabbed Nico’s arm, panic flooding her eyes. “Nico, he’s going to destroy it all.”
Arthur smiled, walking toward the locked doors. “You had a good run, children. But the adults are back in charge.”
He reached for the doorknob.
“Arthur,” Rosa said.
Her voice wasn't scared anymore. It wasn't shaking. It was the stern, flat voice of a nanny who had caught a child stealing from the cookie jar.
Arthur paused, looking over his shoulder.
Rosa reached into her purse one last time.
She pulled out a small, modern plastic keycard. It had the logo of First Chicago Bank printed on the side.
Arthur frowned. “What is that?”
“You think I kept the most dangerous documents in the world in the same rusty lockbox for thirty years?” Rosa asked, raising an eyebrow.
Arthur’s face fell.
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“I moved them yesterday,” Rosa said simply. “To a modern, biometric vault. Under my name. Your corrupt manager can drill that old box all night. He’s going to find nothing but thirty-year-old dust.”
TITLE: The End Of The Patriarch
