Chapter 17 - Blood in the Parlor
I stood motionless in the dark study for ten agonized seconds.
The truth crashed over me in violent waves.
June’s hands.
The way she held herself with that quiet, unyielding dignity despite the rags and the chemical burns on her skin.
The familiar slant of her jaw that had haunted me from the very first night she dropped the stale heel of sourdough bread onto the cold tiles of my pantry.
She wasn't just an innocent bystander caught in the gears of corporate greed.
She was the rightful owner of the ground upon which the entire Vance industrial empire had been erected.
I sprinted out of the study and dashed down the corridor toward the guest suite.
The door was locked tight, just as I had ordered.
I knocked rapidly with three sharp taps.
"June! It’s Arthur. Open the door."
A key turned in the heavy deadbolt.
June pulled the door open an inch, her eyes vigilant and clear.
Behind her, Mateo and Lila were sound asleep on the large velvet sofa, wrapped in plush down comforters.
"What is it?" she asked instantly, reading the crisis in my posture.
"Pack their coats," I whispered urgently.
"We have to move. Now."
"Who is at the gate, Arthur?"
"Richard Ashford," I said.
She didn't flinch.
She didn't look confused.
Instead, a terrible, heartbreaking understanding settled over her features.
She reached into her collar and pulled out the braided cord around her wrist.
Beside the two wooden beads with her children's initials hung that small silver charm shaped like an open door.
She unfastened the clasp and held it out to me.
"My mother gave me this when I was seven years old," June said softly, her voice steady despite the chaos.
"She told me that if a man named Richard Ashford ever came looking for me, it wouldn't be to give me an inheritance."
"It would be to finish what he started in Peoria thirty years ago."
"You knew?" I asked, stunned.
"I didn't know you were married to Elena until I saw her portrait in your hallway the first night I cleaned here," June confessed.
"Elena visited me in Peoria three years ago, Arthur."
"Before she died."
"She sat on my broken sofa in that moldy apartment, held my hands, and apologized for the crimes her family had committed against mine."
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"She gave me the key to this mansion."
"She told me that if my life ever fell apart completely, there was bread in your pantry that belonged to me."
