Chapter 4
The storm rolled in shortly after midnight,
bringing heavy rain and violent winds,
battering the sturdy walls of Hawthorne House.
I was sitting in my mother's old study,
surrounded by the black ledgers,
carefully documenting every single account number and offshore routing code.
Daniel sat across from me,
drinking a glass of amber whiskey,
typing furiously on his encrypted laptop.
"If we send this to the federal authorities,"
Daniel said without looking up from the screen,
"Arthur will be arrested the moment he steps out of his hotel room."
"I want everything perfectly organized,"
I replied,
tracing my finger down a column of stolen funds,
"I want no loopholes,
no escape routes,
and absolutely no chance for him to buy his way out."
Suddenly,
the heavy brass knocker on the front door pounded loudly,
echoing through the quiet,
tense house.
Daniel stopped typing immediately,
closing his laptop,
and reaching for the heavy iron fireplace poker resting near the hearth.
"Stay here,"
he ordered,
his voice low and protective,
moving swiftly toward the hallway.
I ignored him,
following closely behind,
refusing to hide in my own home while someone knocked on my door.
We reached the foyer,
and Daniel peered through the small glass pane beside the heavy oak door.
He frowned,
lowering the iron poker slightly,
and looked back at me with a confused expression.
"It is a woman,"
he whispered,
"she is completely soaked,
and she looks terrified."
I stepped forward,
looking through the glass myself,
and my heart nearly stopped beating.
It was Sloane Avery.
She was shivering uncontrollably in the freezing rain,
wearing a cheap plastic raincoat,
her perfectly styled hair now a tangled,
wet mess.
I unlocked the deadbolt,
pulling the heavy door open,
and let the cold wind sweep into the warm foyer.
"Caroline,"
Sloane sobbed,
her teeth chattering loudly,
wrapping her arms around her thin frame.
"What are you doing here,
Sloane?"
I asked coldly,
feeling no pity for the woman who had happily worn my grandmother's diamonds.
"Please,"
she begged,
stepping into the hallway,
leaving a puddle of water on the marble floor.
"Arthur hired me,"
she confessed,
tears mixing with the rain on her pale cheeks,
"he paid me to get close to Grant,
to find the ledgers,
but Grant never knew about them."
I stared at her,
realizing the depth of the betrayal,
understanding that Sloane was never just a mistress.
"You were a spy,"
Daniel said flatly,
his eyes narrowing with intense suspicion.
"Yes,"
Sloane admitted,
dropping her gaze to the floor,
"but Arthur is crazy,
he found out I failed,
and now his men are looking for me."
She looked up at me,
her eyes wide with genuine,
unadulterated terror.
"They are going to kill me,
Caroline,"
she whispered,
"and they are coming here tonight,
to take the house by force."
The wind howled outside,
a fierce,
angry sound,
as the reality of her words settled heavily upon us.
May you like
The war had arrived at my doorstep,
and the past was finally demanding to be paid in full.
