Chapter 5 - The Anatomy of a Conspiracy
Rain hammered against the slate roof of Blackwood Manor at midnight, the wind howling through the ancient gables like a creature in agony.
The grand estate, perched high on the cliffs overlooking the boiling waters of the Atlantic, was shrouded in darkness save for a single light flickering on the third floor—the nursery where Leo Vance lay awake in his iron frame bed.
He was not sleeping. He lay beneath his heavy wool blanket, his eyes wide, fixed on the shadow of the tall grandfather clock standing in the corner of his room.
In his small mind, the night of his father's death played in a continuous, terrifying loop.
He remembered the argument. His father, Lord Edward, standing at his desk in the library, shouting about forged land deeds and stolen trust funds. He remembered the door bursting open, revealing Judge Sterling and Jonathan Vance. He remembered Clara, the gentle maid who fed him sweet biscuits when his mother died, grabbing him by the shoulders and hiding him inside the hollow dark of the grandfather clock.
Through the narrow slit in the clock’s brass face, Leo had watched it all.
He had seen Judge Sterling grab Lord Edward by the throat. He had heard the frantic struggle, the heavy footsteps echoing down the grand hallway, and the sickening sound of timber splintering as Lord Edward was hurled over the balustrade into the abyss of the grand foyer below.
And then he had seen Jonathan Vance drop a bloody silver envelope into Clara Mercer's apron pocket while she was kneeling beside the body, crying for help.
A soft creak echoed from the floorboards outside the nursery door.
May you like
Leo’s breath caught in his throat. He pulled the blanket up to his chin, his heart beating like a trapped bird against his ribs.
The heavy iron door handle slowly rotated downward.
