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The air in the security room grew heavier as Marcus tapped a few keys, bringing up the archive footage from the main hallway and the second-floor landing. On screen, the house was quiet. The morning sunlight streamed through the tall Victorian windows, casting long, geometric shadows across the polished hardwood floors. / Chapter 5 / 8

Chapter 5 - THE HUNTED BECOMES THE HUNTER

The camera feed snapped to the grand salon on the ground floor.

Patricia was pacing back and forth near the marble fireplace, her phone pressed tightly to her ear. Her usual poised demeanor was completely gone; her movements were jerky, erratic, and laced with unmistakable panic.

"What do you mean, the wire transfer hasn't cleared?" Patricia hissed into the phone, her voice echoing faintly through the directional audio feed. "Arthur is supposed to sign the final restructuring papers tonight at dinner. Once those go through, the primary trust is legally transferred to my control!"

On the other side of the line, Gregory’s voice crackled through the speaker: “Calm down, Patricia. Something’s wrong. I tried accessing the offshore portal ten minutes ago, and the IP address was blocked by Vance Industries' main firewall. Someone’s locking down our access.”

"Blocked?" Patricia stopped pacing, her face draining of all color. "Who could block it? Arthur doesn't know anything about finance; he leaves all the technical compliance to his legal team, and I vetted them months ago!"

“Well, somebody knows,” Gregory snapped back. “Get out of the house. Grab whatever cash and jewelry are in the master safe and meet me at the private airstrip in forty minutes. If Arthur finds out—"

"He won't find out," Patricia cut him off, her voice turning hard and desperate. "I’ll handle him. I always handle him."

She ended the call abruptly, shoving her phone into her designer handbag. On screen, she turned toward the double doors of the salon, heading straight for the grand staircase that led to the master suite and the primary wall safe.

In the security room, Mr. Vance straightened his tie, smoothing down the lapels of his charcoal suit with mechanical precision.

"Where are you going, sir?" Marcus asked, watching him stand up from the desk.

"Upstairs," Mr. Vance replied calmly, his eyes locked on the monitor where Patricia’s hurried footsteps were echoing up the stairs. "It’s time for a family meeting."

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"Do you want me to send a tactical team to back you up?"

"No," Mr. Vance said, walking toward the heavy steel door of the security room. "This is a conversation between a husband and his wife. Let's see how good her acting really is when the curtain finally falls."

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