Chapter 3 - The Lawyer's LedgerJulian Vance didn't flinch.
He was a man in his late fifties, dressed in a bespoke charcoal suit, with silvered hair and gold-rimmed spectacles that made him look like a Supreme Court justice. For thirty years, he had managed the legal affairs of the Halloway family, burying their bodies, hiding their offshore accounts, and drafting their wills.
When Thaddeus’s trembling, crooked finger pointed at him, Julian simply reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a silk handkerchief, and casually wiped a smudge from his glasses.
"Thaddeus," Julian said smoothly, his tone maternal and soothing, as if talking to a confused child. "The strain of the afternoon is getting to you. You are having another episode. Clara, please take Mr. Halloway back to his quarters and administer his sedative."
"Don't you dare lay a finger on him," August warned, turning fully to face his lawyer. "Julian. Explain why my father is pointing at you."
Julian sighed, placing his glasses back on his nose. "August, look around you. Your father has lost over sixty percent of his cognitive function due to vascular dementia. He points at shadows. Yesterday he spent two hours pointing at a floor lamp because he thought it was his late wife. Are you really going to base a murder accusation on the random spasms of a dying old man?"
"He isn't demented," I said, stepping forward, still holding the potassium tablet wrapped carefully in my hand towel. "His mind is entirely intact. I’ve spent eight months with him. He plays chess with me using eye movements. He tracks the stock market on the television. The only thing he couldn't do was speak... until today."
Julian looked at me with cold, aristocratic disdain. "Ah, yes. The disgraced nurse. Let’s talk about Clara Vale, shall we? A woman whose license was revoked for stealing class-II narcotics from a pediatric ward. A woman who somehow managed to charm her way into this house despite having a criminal record. And now, carrying a child whose father she refuses to name."
Julian turned to the remaining guests, spreading his hands in a gesture of tragic pity.
"Is it not obvious what is happening here?" Julian announced, his voice ringing with legal authority. "Clara Vale knows that Thaddeus’s will leaves a massive stipend to his full-time medical staff in the event of his passing. She has been manipulating a feeble old man, planting unauthorized pills to frame Miss Ashford, and trying to secure her place in this estate before her illegitimate child is born!"
Celeste, seeing a lifeline, immediately scrambled off the floor, grasping onto Julian’s arm. "Yes! Yes! That’s it! She tried to frame me! She knew August was going to propose to me today and she couldn't stand it!"
I felt a cold drop of sweat trickle down my neck. Julian was good. In less than two minutes, he had flipped the narrative from a murder attempt into the desperate scheme of an unwed, disgraced nurse.
I looked at August. His face was unreadable.
"August," I said, keeping my voice as steady as possible. "I don't care about your money. I don't care about this estate. But I know pharmacology. Look at the dosage logs in the study. The handwriting on the administration charts for the last three weeks isn't mine. It’s signed with my initials, but the lower loop on the 'C' is curved inward. I write my 'C's with an open arch."
Julian scoffed. "Handwriting analysis? From a disgraced hospital worker?"
"No," a voice echoed from above.
It wasn't a whisper. It was a raspy, gravelly, dust-choked sound—like two grinding stones pulled from the bottom of a dry well.
The entire hall froze.
Every head snapped upward.
Thaddeus Halloway was standing.
He was trembling, his knuckles white as he held onto the wooden balcony rail, his tall, frail frame leaning heavily to the right. But he was standing on his own two feet. And his eyes were fixed on Julian Vance with a fury that could have set the curtains on fire.
"Julian..." Thaddeus croaked, his vocal cords straining against eight months of forced silence. "The... ledger..."
Julian’s calm facade cracked. For a fraction of a second, absolute, primal terror flashed across the lawyer’s face.
"Thaddeus, sit down, you are going to fall—" Julian began, taking a step toward the stairs.
"THE LEDGER!" Thaddeus roared, a burst of strength surging through his ruined body. "In... the... vault... The baby... isn't... hers..."
Thaddeus pointed his trembling finger straight down—not at Julian, not at Celeste, but directly at my belly.
May you like
"The baby..." Thaddeus wheezed, his eyes rolling back into his head as his knees buckled. "Is... a... Halloway..."
Before anyone could move, the old man collapsed, his body sliding down against the railing like a fallen oak.
