Chapter 2 - The Empty Wing of SecretsThe East Wing of the Starks estate was shrouded in perpetual twilight, a relic of an older architectural era that Rory had never bothered to remodel. Susan Thompson’s suite was located at the very end of the second-floor corridor, past the portrait gallery where generations of cold-eyed Starks ancestors stared down from gilded frames.
Rory moved like a panther through the carpeted hallway, the broken teddy bear clutched tightly in his left hand like a weapon. Veronica followed two paces behind, carrying a heavy brass candlestick she had snatched from the console table.
"Mr. Starks," Veronica murmured softly as they approached Susan’s double doors. "If she’s tied into an outside syndicate, walking in blind could trigger a secure wipe of whatever server she’s feeding data to."
"Let it wipe," Rory growled, his knuckles white against the brass doorknob. "I don't want her data anymore. I want her pulse."
He didn't knock.
With a brutal slam of his shoulder, Rory splintered the mahogany frame. The heavy doors flew inward, crashing against the interior walls with a deafening report.
The room was pitch black.
Rory hit the wall switch, flooding the luxury suite with harsh overhead light.
The bed was neatly made, hospital corners pulled tight, untouched. The walk-in closet doors stood wide open, revealing rows of designer dresses, fur coats, and empty hangers swinging gently in the draft from an open window.
On the mahogany writing desk in the center of the room sat a single laptop, its screen glowing with an active command-line interface. Green text scrolled down the black monitor at blinding speed.
TRANSMISSION ENCRYPTED: NODE 04 ACTIVE. UPLOADING AUDIO STREAM... 98% COMPLETE.
Veronica rushed to the desk, her eyes scanning the file directory. "She’s uploading tonight’s audio capture to an external offshore server. Look at the destination IP—it’s routed through a shell corporation in Zurich."
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Rory stared at the desk surface. Next to the laptop sat a small velvet jewelry box, left open. Inside rested a single, heavy platinum key with an embossed emerald crest—the master key to the Starks family’s underground vault beneath the boathouse.
"The vault," Rory breathed, realization hitting him like a physical blow. "She didn't just want to terrorize my daughters. She wanted the ledger."
