Chapter 7 - The Witness Speaks
At the mention of the safe, Eleanor Sterling shifted in her wheelchair. The frail old woman, whose mind Chloe had tried to convince the world was lost to dementia, raised her chin. Her pale eyes were remarkably clear, burning with a quiet, dignified resolve.
"The safe combination is the date your father proposed to me in Paris, Arthur," Eleanor said, her voice thin and raspy, but entirely steady. "She spent three hours yesterday pulling my fingers back, trying to force me to write it down. When I refused, she brought out that candlestick."
Chloe’s gaze snapped to the old woman, her face turning from pale to a sickly, ash-gray. "You crazy old hag—"
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"Enough!" Sarah, the nurse, stepped forward, holding her phone firmly in front of her chest. The screen displayed an active recording interface, the red counter ticking past three minutes. "I've recorded everything, Chloe. From the moment you raised that wood over Mrs. Sterling's head to your confession about the theft. The police dispatch has been listening to the entire live stream."
The color drained completely from Chloe's lips. She looked down at the amber vial on the counter, then at the recording phone, and finally at Arthur, whose face was a stone mask of absolute condemnation.
