Chapter 3 - THE GHOST IN THE STUDY
The drive back to my estate took twenty minutes. I rode in the back of my town car in absolute silence, watching the neon city lights streak past the rain-slicked window. Thomas had loved this city. He had built our life brick by brick, contract by contract, through sweat, honesty, and late nights. He had trusted Claire because she was his flesh and blood. But Thomas had also taught me one golden rule in business: Trust is earned in drops and lost in buckets.
When the car rolled through the wrought-iron security gates of our property, the house glowed warmly under the amber porch lights. It looked peaceful, majestic, and entirely untouched by the pathetic drama unfolding behind us.
My town car parked right behind a sleek black sedan belonging to Marcus, the lead security consultant, and another vehicle bearing the logo of Sterling & Miller Law Firm.
Claire and Daniel’s car pulled up right after us. They tumbled out of their vehicle in a rush. Claire sprinted up the driveway, her high heels clicking furiously against the pavement.
"Open this door right now!" she screamed, pounding her fists against the heavy oak front door. "Mom! You cannot lock us out of our own family home!"
The heavy oak door swung open before she could hit it a second time. It wasn't me who opened it. It was Inspector Vance—the sharp-eyed, silver-haired retired detective I had stationed inside earlier.
Inspector Vance stepped aside, nodding politely to me. "Good evening, Mrs. Vance. Everything inside is secured. The thermal and motion logs have been exported."
"Thank you, Inspector," I said, stepping past him into the grand foyer. The familiar scent of beeswax, old books, and Thomas’s cedar cologne washed over me, grounding me instantly.
Claire and Daniel pushed their way past Inspector Vance, storming into the hallway like invaders.
"This is insane!" Daniel shouted, pacing back and forth across the hardwood floor. "We are calling the police! This is unlawful imprisonment! She's holding us hostage in her own home!"
"Quiet, Daniel," a calm, deep voice echoed from the study down the hall.
A tall man in a charcoal three-piece suit stepped out of the study. It was Arthur Sterling, senior partner at Sterling & Miller and our family attorney for over thirty years. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, looking at Claire and Daniel with the distinct expression of a surgeon examining a tumor.
"Arthur?" Claire stopped dead in her tracks, her face turning pale once more. "What are you doing here at this hour?"
"Your mother called me at 7:00 PM," Arthur said smoothly, holding a thick leather-bound folder in his hands. "She instructed me to prepare a comprehensive legal review of your recent activities regarding this property, as well as a formal codicil to Mr. Vance’s last will and testament."
Claire’s breath hitched. She lunged forward, grabbing Arthur by the lapels of his suit jacket. "A codicil? What did she change? She can't change anything! Dad left everything to her, with the explicit understanding that it would pass down to me!"
"Correction, Claire," Arthur said, gently but firmly peeling her fingers off his jacket. "Your father left his estate to your mother conditionally. And tonight, those conditions were violently broken."
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I walked slowly down the hallway, stopping right beside Arthur, resting my hand on the polished mahogany table.
"Would you like to read her the clause, Arthur?" I asked quietly.
