Chapter 7 - THE HAMPTONS REFUGEE
Miles away in a secluded beachfront estate in Montauk, Clara sat wrapped in a wool blanket on the patio.
The ocean waves crashed against the jagged rocks below as the cool Atlantic breeze stirred her blonde hair.
Detective Reese walked out onto the deck, holding two mugs of steaming chamomile tea.
"Elena isn't answering her phone, Clara," Reese said gently, handing her a mug.
Clara’s hand froze mid-air, her dark eyes reflecting the pale moonlight.
"Check the security feed at the Connecticut house," Clara ordered quietly.
Reese pulled up the live camera stream on his laptop screen, only to see static and offline error codes.
"The main power grid was cut ten minutes ago," Reese reported, his voice growing tense.
"They went after the library," Clara realized, standing up from her wicker chair. "Victoria isn't working alone."
"What do you mean?" Reese asked, standing beside her.
"Victoria doesn't know about the hidden safe behind the portrait," Clara revealed, looking out over the dark sea. "Only three people in the world knew it existed."
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"Who was the third?" Reese demanded.
"My husband... Charles Sterling's son, William," Clara whispered, her voice trembling.
