Chapter 3 - Shadows in the East WingThe digital clock on the kitchen wall blinked 11:42 PM.
The main house was wrapped in an oppressive, heavy silence. Down the grand staircase, through the sprawling marble foyer, the estate rested under the watchful eye of motion-activated security floodlights that swept across the manicured lawns like prison guards searching for escapees.
Rebecca moved down the second-floor hallway of the east wing like a ghost. She wore soft-soled rubber slippers and a dark gray cardigan that swallowed any sound. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but her movements were precise, rehearsed, and utterly calm.
Earlier that evening, during dinner preparation, she had overheard Gertrude whispering to Douglas in the pantry about the "secure drawer" in the home office—the one where Douglas kept the physical corporate seals, duplicate keys to Garrett’s personal safe, and the private medical files from Dr. Evans that supposedly proved Garrett’s permanent disability.
If Rebecca was going to convince Douglas and Gertrude that she was on their side, she needed to bring them something valuable. A peace offering. A token of betrayal.
She stopped outside the heavy double doors of the private home office. The door was unlocked—Douglas was notoriously sloppy when he drank scotch in the library, often leaving his administrative files exposed.
With a soft, fluid motion, Rebecca pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room smelled of old leather, expensive bourbon, and ozone from the laser printer in the corner. Moonlight poured through the tall floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long, silver bars across the Persian rug and illuminating the mahogany desk in the center of the room.
Rebecca crossed the floor silently, her eyes scanning the drawers.
The top right drawer was locked. She didn't have a key, but Garrett had spent two hours that afternoon teaching her a trick he had learned from an old industrial locksmith: a thin stainless steel hairpin inserted into the tumbler with a gentle, lateral twist.
Click.
The lock gave way with a soft, metallic whisper.
Rebecca pulled the drawer open. Inside sat a stack of thick manila folders labeled with red warning tabs: ApexBio Internal Audit – Confidential. Beneath them lay a smaller leather folio containing Dr. Evans’ official medical assessments for Garrett Corbin.
She pulled out the medical folio and opened it. Her breath caught in her throat.
The pages weren't clinical observations or neurological scans. They were draft invoices—receipts for massive, recurring cash payouts made to Dr. Evans from a shell company registered in the Cayman Islands under the name Corbin & Associates Holding.
Douglas wasn't just managing Garrett’s recovery; he was actively paying the neurologist twenty thousand dollars a month to falsify medical records and ensure Garrett remained legally classified as a quadriplegic.
Clack.
The sound of a heavy door opening echoed from the main foyer downstairs.
Footsteps. Slow, heavy, measured strides climbing the grand staircase.
Panic surged through Rebecca’s veins. She didn't have time to put the folder back, lock the drawer, and make it down the hall to the guest wing without being seen. If Douglas caught her here holding proof of his bribery scheme, her career, her safety, and Garrett’s entire plan would evaporate in thirty seconds.
She grabbed the leather folio, shoved it deep inside her cardigan pocket, and slipped behind the heavy velvet drapes covering the floor-to-ceiling windows just as the office door swung wide open.
"I told you, Douglas, you left your ledger on the kitchen island," Gertrude’s sharp, nasal voice pierced the quiet room.
"I didn't leave it anywhere, Gertrude; it was right here on the desk before you started moving things," Douglas snapped, his footsteps squishing slightly on the rug as he walked toward the center of the room.
Rebecca pressed her back flat against the freezing glass of the window, pulling the heavy velvet curtains tightly around her face. Through a tiny gap in the fabric, she could see Douglas standing directly in front of the desk, tossing his keys onto the blotter with an irritated clatter.
"You're paranoid," Gertrude scoffed, walking over to the minibar in the corner of the office. "Ever since we locked that vegetable in the east wing, you've been jumping at shadows. Nobody is going to challenge us. Mother Evelyn believes every word we tell her about his mental state, and the board is too terrified of a leadership vacuum to question our numbers."
"It's not paranoia; it's business," Douglas muttered, pouring a generous splash of scotch into a crystal tumbler. "ApexBio’s new patent on the neuro-stimulation sensors is clearing federal approval next month. Once that patent hits the market, the company’s valuation triples. I need those voting shares transferred to the family trust before Garrett wakes up and realizes what we've done."
Garrett is already awake, Rebecca thought fiercely behind the curtain, her fingers clutching the leather folio in her pocket so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Douglas walked toward the window, stopping less than three feet from where Rebecca stood hidden in the velvet folds. He stared out into the dark expanse of the lawn, taking a slow sip of his drink.
For a terrifying second, Rebecca felt the draft of his breath. She stopped breathing entirely, locking every muscle in her body into absolute stillness.
"Did you hear that?" Douglas suddenly murmured, freezing in place.
Gertrude stopped pouring her drink. "Hear what?"
"A floorboard creaked in the hallway."
Douglas set his glass down with a sharp thud and strode toward the office door, pulling it wide open and peering out into the dim corridor.
"Hello?" Douglas called out into the empty hallway.
Silence answered him.
After a tense moment, Douglas grunted in irritation, slammed the office door shut, and turned back to his wife. "Must be the old house settling. Come on, let's go to bed. I have a meeting with the board's compliance officer tomorrow morning."
The sound of their footsteps drifted away down the hall, followed by the distant click of their bedroom door closing in the west wing.
May you like
Rebecca waited three full minutes in the dark silence behind the curtain before she finally let out a long, trembling breath. Her hands were shaking as she pulled the leather folio from her pocket and clutched it against her chest.
She hadn't just secured proof of Douglas’s crimes. She had declared war.
