Chapter 6 - The Locked Nursery
Richard ran.
The scream came again.
Not silent now.
Not suppressed.
Full and terrified.
He reached the nursery and found the door locked.
"Maya!"
He hit the handle.
Inside, something crashed.
Mrs. Gable shouted, "Richard!"
He stepped back and drove his shoulder into the door.
Once.
Twice.
The frame split on the third hit.
The room opened into chaos.
Mrs. Gable stood near the crib, clutching Maya.
A man in catering whites was climbing through the nursery's service window onto the narrow roof ledge.
"Stop!" Richard shouted.
The man jumped down onto a lower awning and disappeared into the dark.
One detective raced toward the window.
The other entered behind Richard.
"Is the child hurt?"
Mrs. Gable shook her head.
"He came in through the bathroom door. He went straight to the changing table."
Richard looked.
The lower drawer had been pulled out.
Inside were diapers, creams, blankets—and an empty space in the back where a hidden envelope had been taped beneath the wood.
Mrs. Gable pointed.
"He took something."
"What?"
She looked at Richard.
"Eleanor's memory cards."
Richard stared.
"What memory cards?"
Mrs. Gable's face folded with guilt.
"She gave them to me before Maya was born. She said if anything happened to her, I was to keep them away from the house safe."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because after she died, you couldn't hear her name without leaving the room."
The truth hurt because it was accurate.
"What was on them?"
"I don't know. She said they were insurance."
The detective returned from the window.
"Suspect reached the garden. Patrol is covering the perimeter."
Richard looked at Laura, who had entered behind them.
"This isn't only about Victoria."
"No," Laura said. "It isn't."
A radio crackled.
One of the officers listened.
"We have someone at the south gate. Male, catering uniform."
Richard exhaled.
"Good."
The officer's expression changed.
"He doesn't have the envelope."
Laura looked toward the hall.
"Then he passed it to someone."
Richard thought of the gala.
Hundreds of guests.
Staff exits.
Service corridors.
Malcolm.
He handed Maya to Mrs. Gable and ran downstairs.
The ballroom had begun to thin. Guests clustered in worried groups, sensing disruption without knowing its source.
Malcolm Vance was gone.
So was Victoria.
"Where is my wife?" Richard asked the nearest guard.
"Mrs. Sterling left through the east foyer five minutes ago."
"With whom?"
"Her father."
Richard turned to Laura.
"Lock the gates."
"Police can do that. You can't detain guests."
"Then call them."
A detective spoke into his radio.
Thirty seconds later, confirmation came back.
The Vances' car had already exited.
Richard's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Victoria.
"You made a terrible mistake," she said.
Her voice was steady again.
"Come back."
"No."
"Police are here."
"I know. That's why I'm leaving."
Richard's hand tightened around the phone.
"Where is the envelope?"
Silence.
Then Victoria laughed softly.
"You still don't know what Eleanor found, do you?"
"Tell me."
"Ask your board."
The line went dead.
Richard looked at Laura.
"My board?"
She was already pulling out her tablet.
Sterling Freight had eleven directors.
Richard controlled four seats directly. Three belonged to independent investors. Two were held by old family trusts.
And two had recently changed hands through shell entities.
Laura's eyes narrowed.
"Richard."
"What?"
"The entities that bought those two seats trace back to Vance Capital."
He felt the room tilt.
"Malcolm has been buying into my company."
"Quietly."
"Why?"
Laura looked toward the ceiling, toward Maya upstairs.
"Because if they remove you as competent trustee and gain temporary control of Maya's voting block, they can force a majority."
"A takeover."
"Yes."
Richard thought of Eleanor's letter.
When Maya is frightened, believe the fear before you explain it away.
He had assumed the warning was emotional.
Now it looked strategic too.
One of the detectives approached.
"Mr. Sterling, we found something on the man from the nursery."
He held out a keycard.
Sterling Freight headquarters.
Executive archive level.
May you like
Richard stared at it.
"That card belongs to my chief financial officer."
