Chapter 44: The Family Tree

I didn't leave the bathroom. I waited, counting the seconds, listening to the silence of the house settling into night. Richard didn't come back.

When the water turned icy, I stood up, my legs numb. I dried myself quickly, dressing in the hiking clothes Richard had packed. They were sturdy, practical. Clothes for running. Or hiding.

I slipped Mrs. Higgins' phone into my bra, the cold metal against my skin a constant reminder of the stakes.

I opened the bathroom door. The bedroom was dark, save for the blue glow of the television. Richard was asleep, sprawled across the king-sized bed, one arm flung over his eyes.

He looked peaceful. Innocent. It was a terrifying mask.

I crept past the bed, my boots silent on the plush carpet. I reached the hallway and paused. Eleanor’s room was down the corridor, the door ajar. A sliver of light spilled out. She was awake. Plotting.

I needed the library. I needed the safe.

I moved like a ghost, descending the main staircase, hugging the wall to avoid the creaky steps I knew by heart. The house breathed around me—the hum of the refrigerator, the tick of the grandfather clock.

The library was on the ground floor, a cavernous room filled with books nobody read and leather chairs nobody sat in.

I slipped inside and closed the heavy oak door. I didn't turn on the light. I used the moonlight filtering through the French windows to navigate.

The portrait of Silas Blackwood hung over the fireplace. He looked stern, unimpressed, his eyes following me as I crossed the room.

*I'm trying to save your daughter,* I whispered to the painted face. *And your company.*

I gripped the heavy gilt frame and pulled. It swung away from the wall on hidden hinges, revealing the steel face of the wall safe.

I looked at the numbers scribbled on my hand. *10-14-80.*

October 14, 1980. The date the first Vane contract was signed. The date the rot began.

I spun the dial. Right to 10. Left to 14. Right to 80.

*Click.*

The handle turned.

I pulled the door open.

Inside, stacked neatly, were ledgers. Old, leather-bound books that smelled of mildew and secrets. And a single, thick manila envelope sealed with red wax.

*The Blackwood Trust - Original Deed.*

I grabbed it. It was heavy, substantial.

I opened it, my hands shaking. Inside were legal documents, yellowed with age. I scanned them quickly.

*Beneficiary: Catherine Elizabeth Blackwood.*
*Trustee: Eleanor Vane (until Beneficiary reaches age 25 or marries).*

And then, the kicker.

*Upon marriage, full control of the Trust assets shall transfer immediately to the Beneficiary and her legal spouse.*

That was it. The motive. The mechanism.

But there was something else in the envelope. A smaller document, stapled to the back of the deed.

It was a merger agreement. Dated 2002.

*Vane Construction acquires Blackwood & Sons.*

*Purchase Price: $0.00.*

*Signed: Catherine Vane (Owner).*

I stared at the signature. It was shaky, erratic. The letters were jagged, as if the hand holding the pen had been forced.

And below it, a witness signature.

*Eleanor Vane.*

They hadn't just stolen her money. They had stolen her company. They had forced her to sign it over for nothing.

A purchase price of zero.

It was theft. Grand larceny on a corporate scale.

And I held the proof.

I shoved the envelope into my jacket, zipping it tight against my chest.

I turned to leave, but a sound stopped me.

The click of a lock turning.

The library door.

I froze. I was trapped.

But the door didn't open. Instead, I heard a voice on the other side. Low. Urgent.

"She's not in her room, Mother."

Richard.

"Check the grounds," Eleanor hissed. "Check the garage. She can't have gone far."

"The car is still here," Richard said. "But the keys are gone."

"Find her," Eleanor commanded. "And bring the gun."

I backed away from the door, my eyes darting around the room. The window.

I ran to the French doors. They were locked, but the key was in the latch. I turned it slowly, wincing at the *click*.

I slipped out onto the terrace just as the library door burst open.

"The window!" Richard shouted. "She went out the window!"

I didn't look back. I ran.

I ran toward the darkness of the garden, toward the maze, toward the only way out I had left.

The tunnel.

Julian had mentioned tunnels. *The ones they used to smuggle the assets out.*

If they existed, they had to start somewhere. And where better than the old Blackwood gazebo? The place where Richard and Catherine met in secret.

I reached the maze and plunged into the shadows. I could hear Richard behind me, his footsteps heavy on the gravel.

"Elena! Stop!"

I reached the center. The gazebo stood silent in the moonlight.

I ran inside. The floorboards were old, wooden. I dropped to my knees, feeling for a seam, a latch, anything.

My fingers brushed a cold metal ring recessed into the wood.

I pulled.

A trapdoor lifted, revealing a dark, gaping hole in the earth.

A ladder descended into blackness.

"There she is!"

A flashlight beam cut through the night, blinding me.

I didn't hesitate. I dropped into the hole and pulled the trapdoor shut above me.

Darkness swallowed me whole.