Chapter 9 - The Mysterious Benefactor
Mark gently handed Mrs. Higgins a glass of water, his anger giving way to cold, calculated focus.
She was not a willing conspirator; she was another terrified pawn in Julian’s cruel game.
"Did he give you anything else, Mrs. Higgins?" Mark asked, keeping his tone steady and calm.
With trembling fingers, the nanny reached into the deep pocket of her apron.
She placed a cheap, black disposable burner phone onto Mark’s polished mahogany desk.
"He told me to keep it charged," she sobbed softly.
"He said he would call when it was time to leave the garden patio door unlocked tonight."
Mark stared at the small plastic device, his jaw clenching so hard his teeth ached.
Just as he stepped toward it, the phone began to vibrate violently against the wood.
The harsh buzzing sound echoed through the silent office like a venomous snake rattling its tail.
Mark signaled Mrs. Higgins to remain completely quiet and pressed the speaker button.
He did not say a word, allowing only the cold sound of his breathing to travel down the line.
A deep, gravelly voice chuckled on the other end, smooth and completely unfazed.
"I expected the old woman to pick up, but I suppose a protective father is even better," the voice spoke.
"Julian," Mark growled, his voice vibrating with dangerous fury.
"You remember me, brother-in-law," Julian replied calmly. "How touching."
"You stayed quiet while Victoria rotted in prison, but you came slithering out of the shadows for money."
"Money?" Julian laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "You always thought in numbers, Mark."
"Victoria was greedy and clumsy, which is why she ended up in an orange jumpsuit."
"I don't want your trust fund, and I don't want your real estate."
"I want what Eleanor took from my family before she married you."
Mark felt a surge of disbelief rise in his chest.
"Eleanor never took a single cent from anyone," Mark said fiercely. "She built her foundation with her own hands."
"Keep believing the fairy tale, Mark," Julian answered coldly.
"Check Eleanor's private safety deposit box at First National Bank."
"Vault number 418."
"Look at the corporate contracts signed six months before she died."
"Then tell me who the real thief was in your perfect little home."
May you like
The call disconnected abruptly with a sharp click.
Mark stared at the silent phone screen, the seeds of doubt and mystery taking deep root in his mind.
