Chapter 7 - The Brakes That FailedThe study became deathly quiet, save for the heavy ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the corner.
Thomas gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles turning pure white. "The police report... the accident investigators ruled it a mechanical failure."
"Because Arthur Sterling owns half the police department and three-quarters of the judges in this state," Clara said, her voice dripping with venomous truth. "Emily knew they were coming for her. Before she died, she gave me a duplicate copy of the financial records proving her father’s embezzlement and corporate fraud. She told me, 'If I don't make it back, take this to Thomas. He’s the only one with enough power and money to fight my father legally.'"
"Then why didn't you come to me two years ago?" Thomas demanded, anger flaring up again, though this time it wasn't directed at Clara—it was directed at his own blindness. "Why work as a maid? Why sneak into my house like a thief?"
"Because when I came to your mansion two years ago, you were a ghost," Clara said, her voice sharp and uncompromising. "You were locked in your study drinking whiskey, refusing to look at your own son, surrounded by bodyguards and high-priced lawyers. You didn't want the truth, Thomas. You wanted to drown in your own grief. If I had walked up to your front gate with a stack of documents, your security would have thrown me in a dumpster before I could even say Emily's name."
Thomas swallowed hard, the brutal truth of her words cutting deep into his soul. She was right. Two years ago, he had been a coward. He had abandoned his son, built a fortress of isolation, and let grief make him weak.
"So you got a job as a maid," Thomas whispered, staring at her in disbelief. "Just to get close to Lucas?"
"I got a job here because your son was dying inside a palace of gold," Clara said fiercely. "He needed someone to make him laugh. He needed someone to remind him what love felt like while you were flying to Geneva to chase corporate ghosts. And yes... I wanted to watch over Emily's boy."
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Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the study burst wide open.
Standing in the doorway, flanked by two burly private security guards, was Arthur Sterling himself.
