THE SILENT VERDICT OF MARBLE AND BLOOD

Eleanor stepped out of the shadows, her suppressed sidearm held low at her side. Marcus took up a tactical position by the library door, keeping his weapon trained on the hallway entrance.

Victoria slowly turned her head. Her face was lined with age, but her ice-blue eyes were as sharp, ruthless, and unyielding as ever. She wore a deep burgundy silk robe—the exact shade of the dress she had worn the day she raised the golf club against Clara and Lily.

"How did you escape the federal transfer?" Eleanor asked, her voice calm and level.

"Money buys everything, my dear," Victoria sneered, taking a slow sip of her sherry. "It buys judges, it buys prison guards, and it buys dying cancer patients willing to swap places for a ten-million-dollar trust fund for their grandchildren."

"You left your son in prison," Eleanor observed.

"Julian was weak!" Victoria spat, slamming her glass down on the side table, shattering the crystal stem. "He confessed! He betrayed his own blood to save his pathetic skin! He deserved to rot in Pennsylvania."

"And Lily?" Eleanor asked, taking a step closer. "Your own granddaughter?"

A cold, mocking smile spread across Victoria's face. "Lily was an asset. A bargaining chip for the Sterling trust. You took her, but it doesn't matter. I have three other grandchildren living in Switzerland under different names."

Eleanor felt a cold rage flare in her chest, but she suppressed it instantly, converting it into absolute tactical clarity.

"You really believe you can keep running, Victoria?" Eleanor said softly.

"I'm not running, Eleanor," Victoria whispered, leaning forward in her chair. "I own this estate. I own the local police chief. I own the magistrate who handles extraditions. You are in international territory without a warrant, holding an illegal firearm in my living room. If my guards kill you right now, it’s self-defense against home intruders."

Victoria raised her hand to press the silver call button mounted on the arm of her chair.

Eleanor didn't move to stop her.

Victoria pressed the button three times.

Nothing happened. No alarms sounded. No heavy footsteps echoed down the grand hallway.

Victoria’s brow furrowed. She pressed the button again, harder this time. "What... what did you do?"

"Your security detail isn't coming, Victoria," Marcus spoke up from the doorway, holding up a small remote control. "Their tactical frequencies were jammed ten minutes ago. And your four guards in the garden are currently unconscious in the rose bushes."

Victoria’s face drained of color for the second time in her life. She looked back at Eleanor, her hands beginning to tremble beneath her burgundy silk sleeves.

"You can't shoot me," Victoria rasped, her voice losing its aristocratic polish. "You're a law enforcement officer! You're bound by code!"