Chapter 3 - The Wolf at the DoorI pulled the front door open, the heavy wood groaning on its hinges. I didn't invite them in. I stood blocking the threshold, my hand resting firmly on the grip of my iron cane.
Arthur offered a tight, patronizing smile—the kind he used when talking to low-level contractors he had no intention of paying in full.
"Charles," Arthur said smoothly, adjusting his cuffs. "I’m glad I caught you. I came to handle the administrative transition of the girls."
District Attorney Vance stepped forward, flashing a practiced, politician’s smile that didn't reach his cold blue eyes. "Mr. Harrison, I’m Thomas Vance. I’m representing Arthur and his fiancée, Miss Victoria Vance, regarding family restructuring and guardianship waivers."
"Guardianship waivers," I repeated, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "You buried my daughter less than forty-eight hours ago, and you're already drafting custody paperwork on her grave?"
"Let's be pragmatic," Arthur said, stepping closer with an air of absolute entitlement. "Raising three girls as a single working widower is impossible. It’s entirely unsuitable for my career trajectory, especially given my upcoming nuptials. The state has already been notified regarding voluntary surrender of parental rights. All you need to do is sign these papers acknowledging my financial renunciation, and the girls go into a private, state-approved boarding facility in Vermont."
Vermont. Far away. Out of sight. Out of reach.
"You don't want them in foster care anymore?" I asked, my voice dropping dangerously low. "Yesterday you threatened Child Protective Services."
"A tactical exaggeration," Vance interjected smoothly, sliding a leather folio from under his arm. "The point is, Mr. Sterling wishes to sever all legal and financial ties to the children. In exchange, your family will receive a modest stipend for their upkeep, provided you sign a nondisclosure agreement regarding the nature of my client's marriage and personal life."
A bribe. They were trying to buy our silence before the body was even cold.
From the top of the stairs, soft footsteps creaked. I looked up and saw Lucy standing on the landing, holding the digital voice recorder openly in her palm. The small red LED light was blinking steadily.
Arthur’s smug expression flickered for a fraction of a second as he noticed her. But District Attorney Vance remained entirely unfazed, accustomed to bending Savannah’s legal machinery to his family's will.
"Think carefully, Mr. Harrison," Vance said, his voice dropping into a subtle threat. "You're an aging man living on a fixed pension. Fighting a custody battle against a prominent corporate executive and the district attorney's office will bankrupt you before the first hearing. Sign the papers. Let the girls disappear quietly."
I looked at Arthur—the man who had eaten at our Sunday dinner table, who had smiled while accepting my help during his early startup days, and who had ultimately poisoned my daughter for a social ladder.
I slowly lifted my hand from the cane, reached into my pocket, and pulled out Rose’s heavy brass house key. I dropped it loudly into the ceramic bowl on the hall table.
"You think you own the law in Savannah, Mr. Vance?" I asked, stepping out onto the porch and pulling the door shut behind me. "And you think you've buried Rose's voice, Arthur."
May you like
Arthur’s smile finally vanished entirely. "What are you talking about?"
"I’m talking about Saturday," I said, leaning forward. "St. Jude’s Cathedral. Three hundred guests. You might want to check your invitations, Arthur. Because your bride isn't the only one walking down that aisle."
