Chapter 7 - The Poison in the Registry
"Emily..." Victoria’s voice was a cracked, dry croak behind the heavy glass.
Emily fumbled with the digital keypad, but she didn't know the master override code. Panic surged through her veins. She gripped the steel handle, rattling the heavy door. "Victoria! I know the truth! I found Dad's ledger! I know Julian killed him!"
Victoria began to thrash against the leather restraints, the metal bed frame shrieking against the concrete floor. "The code... 0-9-1-4... Dad’s birthday!"
Emily punched the numbers into the glowing keypad: *0-9-1-4-ENTER.*
The lock clicked with a heavy, hydraulic hiss. Emily shoved the door open, rushed inside, and immediately began fumbling with the thick leather buckles pinning her sister’s wrists to the steel frame.
"He's going to ship you to Switzerland tomorrow," Emily whispered frantically, her bruised fingers tearing at the stiff leather. "He’s going to make you disappear forever!"
"Emily, you shouldn't have come down here," Victoria wept, tears cutting clean paths through the dried blood and grime on her cheeks. "He’s watching everything. He has people everywhere."
"I don't care," Emily said, finally popping the left wrist strap open. "Why didn't you tell me, Victoria? Why did you attack me on the balcony instead of just showing me the papers?"
Victoria grabbed Emily’s forearm with startling strength, her fingernails digging deep into the fabric of the doctor's coat. "Because he was standing right behind the French doors with a remote detonator, Emily! He didn't just saw the balustrade! He had placed micro-charges in the decorative cornices! If you stepped out to wave to the crowd, he was going to trigger the collapse and make it look like old masonry failure. I found the wiring in the attic ten minutes before the ceremony!"
Emily’s blood ran completely cold. "He was going to blow the balcony."
"I ran up there to tackle you back inside," Victoria sobbed, her voice trembling with the memory. "I tried to knock you away from the edge! But you spun around... you thought I was attacking you, and you slipped. When the stone cracked, I tried to grab you! But Julian stepped onto the terrace. He looked at me, smiled, and pressed the trigger. The charges went off under the rail! That’s what cracked it! Not your weight! Not my push!"
Victoria looked up at Emily, her eyes wide with sheer terror. "He didn't just want you dead, Emily. He needed me to be the murderer. If I push you, and you die, I go to prison for life or get put in an asylum. With you dead and me locked away, Julian Sterling—as your legal husband-to-be and executor of your estate—inherits one hundred percent of Vance Enterprises without a single living relative to contest the will!"
The full, diabolical scale of the trap finally lay bare. Julian hadn't just planned an accident; he had planned an execution where the sole surviving heir took the blame, leaving him the grieving, spotless billionaire widower holding an eight-billion-dollar empire.
"He didn't get your signature, did he?" Victoria whispered urgently.
"No," Emily said. "I spilled coffee over the contracts. I bought us time."
"You didn't buy time, Emily," Victoria breathed, her face turning pale as she pointed past Emily’s shoulder toward the hallway. "You walked into the slaughterhouse."
Emily turned around.
Standing in the open doorway of the cell was Julian Sterling.
Behind him stood two large men in dark tactical suits, both wearing suppressed Glock 19s holstered at their hips. Julian wasn't wearing his charming smile anymore. The mask had completely slipped off. His face was empty, hollow, radiating the chilling calm of a man who had already decided that everyone in the room was dead.
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"You always were the smarter sister, Emily," Julian said, his voice flat and conversational. "Arthur always said you had his instincts. He was right. You should have stayed in bed."
***
