Chapter 7 - The Confrontation in the Study
I stood up slowly, keeping the heavy hard drive clutched against the ribs of my red velvet gown, which was still faintly stained with dust and dry mud from the night's chaos. Marcus stood in the doorway, his tuxedo jacket unbuttoned, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his forearms. He didn't look like a grieving husband or a startled homeowner; he looked like a predator who had just watched a rabbit walk straight into a snare.
"You knew she was coming," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline hammering against my collarbone. "You didn't just walk into the dining room five minutes early. You locked the smart-locks remotely."
Marcus stepped into the room, his leather shoes clicking methodically on the hardwood floor. He didn't deny it. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched the corners of his mouth.
"She was becoming a liability," Marcus said, his tone casual, as if we were discussing the menu for an upcoming charity dinner. "She thought a conscience paid the bills. The foundation funds our entire lifestyle, every board seat I hold, every political connection we leverage. If she went public with those audits, everything we built would have evaporated overnight."
"And framing me?" I asked, taking a slow step back toward the credenza. "Making it look like she attacked me? Putting me under that chandelier with a shattered glass table?"
"You were convenient," Marcus replied, closing the distance between us with unnerving calm. "A desperate woman with a volatile temper makes a very convincing narrative to a jury. The police would have looked at your history, your late-night arguments, and they would have wrapped the case up in a week. But you had to go and run off to a diner."
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"Julian has the original server logs," I lied, watching his eyes for a flicker of doubt.
For the first time, Marcus's expression tightened. The polished mask cracked just a fraction, revealing the sharp, desperate panic underneath. He lunged forward to grab the hard drive from my hands, but I sidestepped, hurling a heavy crystal paperweight across the room. It shattered against the mahogany bookshelf, showering him in glittering fragments and buying me just enough space to dart past him into the hallway.
