Chapter 7 - The Secrets of the Library
The punishment was swift. Julian did not strike her, nor did he yell. He simply instructed Mrs. Gable to escort her back to the master suite and lock the doors from the outside.
For hours, Claire lay awake in the dark, listening to the rain beat against the heavy glass windows. The mansion was silent, save for the occasional creak of settling wood and the distant hum of the security system's generators.
She waited until her clock read 3:15 AM.
Sitting up in bed, Claire slipped her feet onto the cold floorboards. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the small brass key Evelyn had left behind.
She walked over to the door connecting the master bedroom to Julian's private study. To her surprise, the interior door was unlocked—Julian assumed she was safely secured by the main hallway locks.
Slipping quietly into the dark study, Claire navigated past the heavy mahogany desk and rows of leather-bound books. On the far wall was a secondary door—a hidden servant's passage that led down a narrow spiral staircase directly into the estate's sprawling library on the ground floor.
She opened the passage door carefully, cringing as the iron hinges let out a microscopic whine. Barefoot and silent as a shadow, she glided down the stone steps.
The library was bathed in silvery moonlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling arched windows. The smell of old paper, leather, and dust hung thick in the cold air.
Claire hurried toward the massive stone fireplace at the far end of the room.
Behind the chimney breast.
She reached out, her fingers tracing the rough, hand-carved grey stones surrounding the mantelpiece. She pressed against them one by one, searching for a loose block or a hidden latch.
Minutes ticked by. Her heart hammered in her ears. If Mrs. Gable made her rounds or if Julian woke up, she would be caught with no exit.
On the left side of the stone chimney, three feet above the floor, her thumb brushed against a deep groove. She pressed inward hard.
With a soft, scraping click, a small square stone recessed into the wall, sliding sideways to reveal a dark, hidden cavity no larger than a shoebox.
Claire reached inside, her heart leaping into her throat. Her fingers brushed against a thick, leather-bound journal wrapped in a plastic zip-top bag to protect it from moisture. Beside it was a small USB flash drive.
She pulled both items out and pushed the stone back into place.
She unzipped the plastic bag and opened the journal under the moonlight. The handwriting matched the note on the key—delicate, slanting, and urgent.
Claire turned to the final entry, dated seven years ago, days before Evelyn Vance died:
August 14th.
Julian thinks I don't know about the Vanguard Project. He thinks I'm marrying him for his fortune, but I know what he did to the Vance family's original deeds. My father didn't lose the firm in a bad investment—Julian forged the debt transfers using my mother's maiden name: Claire Miller.
Claire isn't an orphan. She is my half-sister. Julian didn't marry me to secure the merger; he tried to eliminate me so he could marry her and lock up the remaining twenty-two percent of the voting shares.
If I die, it wasn't an accident. Julian found out I spoke to Dr. Harrison.
Claire's breath hitched. The book nearly slipped from her numb fingers.
Claire isn't an orphan. She is my half-sister.
The world spun around her. All her life, she had believed she was alone, a girl with no lineage and no past. But Julian hadn't chosen her by chance at the museum seven years ago. He had hunted her down. He had orchestrated her life, isolated her, and married her to claim the final piece of an empire he had stolen from her real family.
"Searching for bedtime reading, darling?"
The lights in the library slammed on, blinding her with sudden, brilliant white light.
May you like
Claire whipped around, shoving the flash drive into her pocket and holding the journal behind her back.
Standing near the library entrance, bathed in the sharp light of the hall overhead, was Julian. In his right hand, resting casually at his side, was a sleek black automatic pistol.
