Chapter 8 - The Fourth Heir
The stranger looked to be in her early forties, with striking dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and eyes that mirrored the exact shade of my grandmother's.
She swirled the amber liquid in her crystal glass, her expression entirely unbothered by the heavy golden poker Olivia was brandishing like a weapon.
"Put that down, sweetheart," the woman said smoothly, her voice carrying an effortless, chilling authority. "You'll only hurt yourself, and frankly, we have much more important things to discuss."
"Who the hell are you?" Olivia demanded, her knuckles white as she gripped the fireplace poker tighter. "How did you get into this house? The security system requires a biometric scan!"
The woman chuckled softly, setting her glass down on the mahogany desk with a sharp clink.
"Biometric scans can be overridden when you own the underlying patent," she replied, leaning back in the leather chair. "Besides, grandmother gave me the master key twenty years ago—right before she threw me out."
I stepped into the room, keeping a cautious distance from Olivia. "You knew our grandmother?"
"Knew her?" The woman smiled, a melancholic shadow crossing her face. "I was her firstborn. The prototype before she decided to start fresh with a new batch of children."
The room seemed to tilt on its axis.
"Firstborn?" I whispered. "Grandmother never had children other than our parents."
"Your parents were corporate managers she hired to raise us like pedigree dogs in a laboratory," the woman corrected, standing up slowly. "My name is Victoria Vance. And legally speaking, I am the rightful owner of this entire estate."
Olivia lowered the fireplace poker slightly, her brow furrowing in deep confusion. "That's impossible. The lawyer said the estate goes to us if we complete the tasks."
"The lawyer works for the estate trust, which I legally control as of midnight tonight," Victoria said, walking toward the bookshelf. She reached behind a leather-bound encyclopedia and pulled out a fresh, unsealed envelope bearing the family crest. "Grandmother didn't leave you twenty-eight million dollars to win. She left it as bait."
"Bait for what?" I asked, stepping closer to the desk.
"To draw all of us out of hiding," Victoria said, turning around to face us, her expression hardening. "She knew she was dying of pancreatic cancer, and she wanted to flush out the person who tried to poison her eighteen years ago."
The silence in the library became absolute. The grandfather clock ticked heavily, the sound feeling like a countdown.
"Poison?" Olivia gasped, dropping the fireplace poker onto the Persian rug. "Grandmother was poisoned?"
"Slowly, over months, using a synthetic heavy metal compound that mimics natural organ failure," Victoria said, walking slowly toward us. "And according to the medical logs in this very desk, the person who administered it had unrestricted access to her private study and her daily tea."
May you like
Victoria's dark eyes locked directly onto mine.
"That person was the youngest," Victoria whispered. "You."
