Chapter 11 - Shadows in the Sunroom
The morning sun hit the marble floors of Hale Manor with a brilliance that seemed almost mocking, casting long, geometric patterns across the grand foyer. It had been a little over a week since the night at Cliffs Edge, a night that felt like a lifetime ago. The blood had been scrubbed from the third-floor hallway, the shattered reinforced steel door had been replaced with solid mahogany, and the estate had settled into a quiet, almost domestic rhythm that still felt fragile beneath my fingers.
I sat in the sunroom, a glass of black coffee cooling on the glass-topped table beside me. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I watched Chloe and Amara chasing each other across the manicured lawn. Their high-pitched laughter drifted through the double-paned glass, a sound so bright and unburdened that it still startled me, as if expecting the universe to snatch it back at any second.
"They're wearing out the groundskeeper," a quiet voice murmured from the doorway.
I didn't need to turn around to know it was Grace. She stepped into the sunroom, carrying a fresh pitcher of iced tea and two tall glasses. Over the past few days, Grace had lost the haunted, hunted look in her eyes. Her posture was straighter, her steps lighter.
"Let them," I replied, taking a sip of my coffee. "The groundskeeper is paid enough to handle grass stains."
Grace poured a glass of tea and set it down across from me, but she didn't leave. She stood there, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her apron—a habit she hadn't quite broken yet.
"Marcus called from the shipping yard an hour ago," Grace said softly. "He said the cargo inventory from the North Shore dock is being processed. Everything that belonged to Vincent... they’re logging it into our vault."
"Good," I said, my voice flat. "Make sure the ledgers are audited twice. I don't want a single trace of my brother's hands left on our balance sheets."
"It’s not just the ledgers, Julian," Grace hesitated, looking out at the lawn where Chloe had just tumbled into a patch of clover, shrieking with delight as Amara helped her up. "There was something else in Vincent’s personal safe. Something Marcus didn't want to mention over an unencrypted line. He said you needed to see it yourself."
My gaze snapped from the garden to Grace’s face. The tension in the room instantly returned, thick and cold. "What kind of something?"
May you like
"A ledger notebook," Grace whispered, looking around as if even the sunroom walls might have ears. "Handwritten by Vincent. Dating back three years before Chloe was 'taken.' It has names in it, Julian. Names of people inside your own organization. People you trust."
I set my coffee cup down so hard the porcelain cracked against the glass tabletop.
