The silence that followed my declaration was more deafening than any scream. Vivian was frozen, her hand still clenched around her throat, her wide eyes betraying a visceral panic. “Client X.” Two simple words that had just shattered her facade of an untouchable stepmother.
Marcus, for his part, did not seem to understand the gravity of what I had just said. He looked at his mother, then at me, incomprehension battling terror on his spoiled young man’s face.
“Mom?” he stammered. “What is she talking about? What Client X?”
Vivian did not answer him. She stared at the red folder, her lips trembling slightly. For the first time in years, the predator realized that she had become the prey.
“I’m giving you twenty minutes to pack your bags, Vivian,” I said in an icy tone, breaking the silence. “Twenty minutes before the police arrive. And believe me, you don’t want to be here when they discover the contents of this second folder.”
I tapped my suitcase with the tip of my foot, a ruthless smile stretching across my lips. This was no bluff. The red folder was only the appetizer. The main course was still safely stored in my suitcase, a time bomb ready to pulverize Vivian and Marcus’s world.
Vivian seemed to snap out of her torpor. She straightened her shoulders, trying to regain a semblance of dignity, but her shifting gaze betrayed her.
“You think you can intimidate me with your empty threats, Isabella?” she hissed, recovering some of her venom. “I am your father’s wife. I have rights. I am not leaving this house.”
“You haven’t been my father’s wife from the moment you tried to kill him,” I retorted, my voice cutting like a blade. “And as for this house… It never belonged to you.”
I turned toward Marcus, who looked more and more lost.
“You should listen to your mother, Marcus. Pack your bags. You wouldn’t want your high-society friends to see you handcuffed and thrown into the back of a police car, would you?”
He swallowed hard, his usual arrogance having totally vanished. He cast a final look at his mother, hoping for confirmation, but Vivian remained mute, her gaze lost in a vacuum.
Without a word, Marcus turned on his heel and fled toward the staircase, his footsteps echoing heavily on the marble steps.
I returned my attention to Vivian. She was alone now. Alone with her lies, her crimes, and the ghosts of her past.
“Client X,” I murmured, approaching her until our faces were only a few centimeters apart. “Did you really think you could hide this affair for ten years without anyone noticing?”
She flinched, her eyes avoiding mine.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered, her trembling voice betraying her once again.
“Don’t play games with me, Vivian,” I growled. “I know everything. I know about the monthly transfers to the Cayman Islands account. I know about the secret meetings in that suite at the Plaza. And above all, I know…” I made a theatrical pause, savoring the dread taking hold of her. “…I know who Client X is.”
Vivian’s face decomposed. She took a step back, teetering on her heels.
“No…” she breathed. “It’s impossible. Nobody knows…”
“I know,” I asserted, implacable. “And the police will know soon, too. Unless…”
I left my sentence hanging, observing her reaction. Hope lit up in her eyes—a desperate, pathetic hope.
“Unless what?” she asked, her voice broken.
“Unless you cooperate,” I replied, a Machiavellian smile on my lips. “Unless you tell me everything. Everything about Client X. Everything about my father’s accident. And most of all… everything about my mother’s will.”
Vivian hesitated. She knew she was trapped. She knew I held the keys to her destruction. But she also knew that if she spoke, she would be signing her own death warrant.
“I… I can’t,” she stammered, tears of panic beading at the corners of her eyes. “He will kill me…”
“Who? Client X?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Believe me, Vivian, the police are much less dangerous than he is.”
She shook her head, terrified.
“You don’t understand…” she groaned. “He is powerful. He controls everything. If I speak, he will destroy me. And he will destroy you too, Isabella.”
“I am already dead to him,” I retorted, coldly. “And I have nothing left to lose. But you… you still have a choice. You can rot in prison for the rest of your days, or you can help me bring down Client X and hope for a reduced sentence.”
The silence fell again, heavy and oppressive. The minutes ticked away, inexorable. Twenty minutes. The countdown had begun.
Suddenly, the front door opened again. My two security agents reappeared, flanking a man in a gray suit. A man I knew very well.
“Inspector Carter,” I greeted him, a triumphant smile on my lips. “You’re early.”
Inspector Carter, an honest and tenacious cop with whom I had worked on several cases, scanned the room, stopping on Vivian, who was as pale as a sheet.
“缺陷 Hale,” he replied in a grave voice. “I understand you have some interesting information to share with me.”
“Indeed, Inspector,” I said, picking up the red folder from the floor. “Very interesting information. And this is only the tip of the iceberg.”
I handed him the folder. He opened it and began to scan through it, his eyebrows furrowing as he read.
“Extortion, aggravated fraud, abuse of weakness…” he murmured, looking up at Vivian. “The accusations are serious, Madame Hale.”
“It’s a setup!” Vivian screamed, suddenly finding her voice. “This bitch invented everything! She wants to steal my inheritance!”
“Calm down, Madame Hale,” Carter interrupted sharply. “We will verify all these allegations. In the meantime, please accompany me to the station.”
“No!” she shrieked, backing away precipitously. “You don’t have the right! I demand to see my lawyer!”
“You will have plenty of time to see him at the station,” the inspector replied, nodding to his men.
The two agents approached Vivian and put handcuffs on her. She struggled, shouting insults and threats, but her efforts were in vain.
As they were leading her toward the door, Marcus appeared at the top of the stairs, two heavy suitcases in his hand. He froze upon seeing his mother handcuffed, the blood draining from his face.
“Mom!” he cried out, dropping his suitcases, which tumbled down the steps with a deafening crash.
“Stay out of this, Marcus!” Vivian yelled, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Call Maître Sterling! Tell him I’ve been arrested!”
Marcus remained rooted to the spot, unable to move. He watched his mother disappear through the front door, flanked by the police officers. Then he turned his gaze toward me, a mixture of hatred and terror in his eyes.
“You’re going to pay for this, Isabella,” he spat, his voice trembling. “You’re going to pay very dearly.”
I stepped toward him, picking up my father’s Rolex that he had dropped in his haste.
“The only people who are going to pay, Marcus, are you and your mother,” I replied in a calm but implacable voice. “And Client X. Don’t forget that.”
I handed him the watch.
“Here. You’ll need to know the time when you’re behind bars.”
He looked at me, hatred distorting his features, then he turned on his heel and fled, leaving me alone in the large, silent villa.
The silence. A heavy and oppressive silence, loaded with the buried secrets of the Hale family. But this silence was not going to last. Soon, the truth would break out into the open, and vengeance—cold and calculated—would fall upon those who had thought they could destroy my family with impunity.
Client X. My mind could not stop playing that name over and over. This shadow man, powerful and untouchable, who had been pulling the strings for years. The man who had ordered my father’s accident. The man who had helped Vivian embezzle the funds from Hale Construction. The man who, I was convinced, was also responsible for my mother’s death.
My mother. Her memory flooded through me, a wave of sadness mixed with anger. She had died ten years ago, taken by a lightning-fast cancer. Or at least, that is what they had made us believe.
I had always had doubts about the circumstances of her passing. Troubling details, shadow zones that no one had ever wanted to clear up. The doctor who had signed the death certificate had disappeared a few days later. The medical files had been inexplicably lost. And then, there was that famous will, from which Vivian and my father had inherited almost the entirety of the family fortune.
A will that my mother had never wanted to sign. A will that, I was sure, was a forgery.
And Client X was at the heart of this machination. He had helped Vivian forge the will. He had helped her make the evidence disappear. He had helped her murder my mother.
Rage flooded through me—a dark and destructive rage. I would stop at nothing to bring the truth to light. I would destroy Client X, Vivian, Marcus, and everyone else who stood in my way.
I walked toward my father’s office, a dark and imposing room lined with books and memories. That was where the answers I was looking for lay. The answers buried for years, hidden in secret drawers and confidential files.
