Chapter 3 - The Secret beneath the East Wing
Before Victoria could run, Arthur grabbed her by the arm, forcing her into the nearby study and locking the heavy oak door behind them. Clara carried Ethan to the library, tending to his wounds while Arthur demanded answers.
"Tell me how deep this goes," Arthur demanded, standing over Victoria as she slumped into a leather armchair, her red dress stained with mud and blood.
Victoria glared up at him, her lips curling into a bitter smile. "You were always so naive, Arthur. You thought your late wife's fortune was lost in bad investments. It wasn't. It was tied up in off-shore accounts that required Ethan's legal authority to claim upon his tenth birthday."
"So you staged the car crash three years ago," Arthur said, connecting the horrifying pieces. "You paid off the hospital staff to declare him dead, then brought him here to keep him hidden until you could forge his thumbprints and signature on the release documents."
"It was seventy million dollars!" Victoria shouted, her composure snapping entirely. "Seventy million dollars that belonged to the Vance estate! You were too weak to claim it, too broken by grief. I took what was rightfully mine!"
"By locking a six-year-old child in a crawlspace?" Arthur snapped.
"He had food! He had light!" she screamed back. "He was alive!"
The room fell quiet as the sound of distant police sirens echoed through the estate grounds. Clara had finally managed to place a call to the emergency services from the kitchen landline.
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Victoria’s face twisted in horror as the sirens grew louder. "Arthur, please... we can fix this. We can split the money. You take the boy and leave the country. No one has to go to prison!"
Arthur looked down at her with complete disgust. "The only place you are going, Victoria, is a cell."
