Chapter 6: The Weight of an Attorney's Briefcase
The blizzard spent its fury before dawn, leaving the Hudson Valley buried under three feet of blinding white silence. I stood at the arched living room window, scraping a fingernail across the frost until I cleared a peephole overlooking the winding drive. A dark sedan was idling near the wrought-iron gates, its amber headlights cutting through the glare of the morning sun. Behind it sat a county snowplow, its heavy diesel engine vibrating through the frozen ground.
Vance came down the main staircase a few minutes later, his black suit rumpled from sleeping in the armchair, his jaw dark with stubble. He looked past me toward the windows, his expression tightening as he saw the sedan turning up the drive.
"That's Marcus Thorne," Vance said, his voice flat as he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. "Our corporate counsel. Julian must have sent him from the city before the phone lines went dead."
"He's carrying a briefcase," I noted, watching the tall, sharp-featured man step out of the car and carefully navigate the unplowed path toward the heavy oak doors. "And he doesn't look like he came to shovel snow."
Moments later, the brass knocker thudded against the wood. Vance strode across the parquet floor and swung the door open before the butler could emerge from the back hall. Thorne blew into his gloved hands, stepping into the foyer with an air of practiced authority that instantly shrank the grand entry.
"Vance," Thorne said, shaking snow from his wool coat. "Thank God the roads are clear. Julian has been beside himself. The board received an erratic wire from the old man's private account late Friday, and—"
"My father is alive, Marcus," Vance interrupted, his tone chillingly low. "And he is currently eating breakfast by the fire."
Thorne stopped short, his gaze shifting past Vance's shoulder to where I stood holding a silver tray near the hallway arch. A flicker of calculated disdain crossed the attorney's face. He adjusted his silk scarf and lowered his voice. "Vance, let's be professional. You shouldn't have outsiders in the manor during a medical crisis, especially someone from domestic staff meddling in financial matters. Julian authorized me to secure the trust documents immediately."
May you like
"She stays," Vance said, stepping firmly into Thorne's path. "And the only documents leaving this house are the ones proving how your firm neglected this estate for three years."
Thorne's eyes widened slightly in genuine shock. He looked between Vance and me, realizing the dynamic had fundamentally shifted. Without another word, the attorney turned on his heel, stormed back out into the freezing morning air, and slammed the door behind him.
