Chapter 2 - The Vultures in the Study
The house felt like a hollow shell.
Without my father’s presence, the high ceilings felt oppressive.
The grand staircase looked like a path to nowhere.
But the study was where the heart of the house beat.
It was a room of dark wood and old books.
It smelled of pipe tobacco and expensive leather.
It was the room where my father had built his empire.
And it was the room where Marcus intended to claim it.
He was already there when I walked in.
He had poured himself a glass of Dad’s eighteen-year-old scotch.
His wife, Vanessa, stood by his side.
She was draped in black lace, looking more like a widow than I did.
She was already eyeing the paintings on the wall.
She was already calculating the value of the rug beneath her feet.
"Finally," Marcus said, slamming his glass down.
"The audience is here. Open the damn safe."
Our relatives crowded into the doorway.
Uncle Raymond.
Aunt Margaret.
The cousins who had dragged Marcus away.
They were all there, driven by the same morbid curiosity.
They wanted to see the money.
They wanted to see the two million dollars Marcus had bragged about for weeks.
"Is everyone here?" I asked.
I walked to the corner of the room, behind the heavy oak desk.
The safe was tucked into a recessed wall, hidden behind a false panel.
"We're all here, Elena," Uncle Raymond said.
His voice was suspicious.
He had always favored Marcus.
He believed the son should inherit the kingdom, regardless of merit.
"Your father promised us he’d take care of the family," Raymond added.
"We want to make sure you're not 'forgetting' his wishes."
I knelt down in front of the steel door.
I reached into my collar and pulled out the brass key.
Marcus stepped closer.
I could feel the heat radiating from him.
I could smell the whiskey on his breath.
"Don't even think about palming anything," he whispered.
I looked at him.
"I don't need to steal, Marcus."
"I've already been given everything I deserve."
He chuckled, a dark, arrogant sound.
"We'll see about that."
I inserted the key into the lock.
The sound of the tumblers clicking was the only noise in the room.
It sounded like a clock ticking down to zero.
I pulled the heavy door open.
The room went silent.
Everyone leaned forward, their eyes wide, expecting to see green.
Expecting to see the shine of gold or the crisp edges of bearer bonds.
But the safe was empty of currency.
There were no stacks of cash.
No jewelry boxes.
No property deeds.
Just six thick, manila folders.
A small, silver flash drive.
And a single sheet of paper with my father’s signature.
Marcus’s face went from expectant to confused.
Then it went to a terrifying shade of purple.
"Where is it?" he roared.
He pushed me aside and reached into the safe.
He threw the folders onto the desk.
He felt around the back of the safe, his fingers clawing at the metal.
"Where is the money, Elena?!"
"You stole it! You moved it while he was in the hospital!"
I didn't move from the floor.
I looked at the relatives, whose expressions had shifted to shock.
"I didn't move a cent," I said.
"Everything that was in this safe when Dad died is still here."
"You're lying!" Vanessa screamed. "He told Marcus there were millions!"
"He told Marcus what Marcus wanted to hear," I said.
I stood up and picked up the handwritten note.
"But my father was a man of facts."
"And the facts are in these folders."
I looked toward the hallway.
"But I’m not the one who should explain them."
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"Samuel, please come in."
***
