Chapter 3 - The Portrait He HatedThe west wing had been closed since Helena Sterling’s death.
Arthur claimed it was because the rooms were being restored. But the carpets were not covered, the chandeliers were not wrapped, and the furniture sat exactly as Helena had left it.
The truth was simpler.
Arthur hated this wing because it belonged to the only person he had never fully controlled.
Vivian and Clara slipped through the double doors as alarms pulsed behind them.
“Clara,” Vivian whispered, “what portrait?”
Clara pointed to the end of the hall.
There, under a single golden light, hung a massive painting of Theodore Sterling.
Arthur’s older brother.
He looked nothing like Arthur. Theodore had kind eyes and a tired smile. His hand rested on the shoulder of a teenage boy Vivian did not recognize.
“Theodore had a son,” Clara said quietly.
Vivian turned to her.
“What?”
“His name is Noah. Grandma said he was the true heir.”
Vivian’s knees nearly gave out.
Arthur had always said Theodore had died childless.
Clara approached the portrait and pressed the small gold frame at the bottom.
Nothing happened.
Footsteps thundered somewhere behind them.
Vivian looked back.
“Clara, hurry.”
Clara pressed again.
Still nothing.
Her face tightened.
“Grandma said the truth opens with blood.”
Vivian’s stomach turned.
But Clara reached into her pocket and pulled out a tiny silver pin.
She pricked her finger.
“Clara!”
“It’s okay.”
A single drop of blood touched the gold frame.
The wall clicked.
The portrait shifted forward.
Behind it was a narrow safe.
Vivian stared at the keypad.
Clara entered six numbers.
Arthur’s wedding date.
The safe opened.
Inside lay a red leather ledger, several sealed envelopes, and an old black flash drive.
Clara grabbed all of it.
Then a voice behind them said, “Put it back.”
Vivian turned.
Mason Sterling stood in the doorway.
Arthur’s younger brother.
He wore a charcoal suit and a face full of regret.
For a second, Vivian thought he had come to help.
Then she saw the gun in his hand.
Clara stepped behind her mother.
Mason looked at the child.
“You shouldn’t have found that.”
Vivian’s voice was low. “You knew.”
Mason swallowed.
“I knew enough to stay alive.”
The alarms stopped.
The silence was worse.
Mason lifted the gun slightly.
“Arthur is on his way.”
Vivian held the ledger to her chest.
Mason’s eyes flicked toward it.
“That book will destroy all of us.”
Clara stepped out from behind her mother.
“No,” she said. “It will only destroy the people who deserve it.”
Mason looked at her for a long moment.
Then his hand began to shake.
From behind him, Arthur’s voice cut through the hallway.
“Mason.”
Mason closed his eyes.
Arthur appeared in the doorway, the bat still in his hand.
May you like
He smiled.
“Good,” Arthur said. “Now hand me my daughter.”
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