Chapter 2 - The Envelope's Warning
While the guests whispered nervously among themselves, Arthur stepped closer to me, giving my arm a protective squeeze.
"How are you holding up, Serena?" Arthur asked quietly, his eyes dropping to my swollen abdomen. "Dr. Vance said you shouldn't be under extreme stress."
"I’m fine, Uncle Arthur," I said, taking a deep breath to steady my pulse. "My feet hurt, but my mind is clearer than it has been in months."
Matthias tried to step between us, his fingers twitching nervously. "Arthur, whatever ridiculous game you and Serena are playing, stop it right now. Fiona is an independent contractor. The necklace was an expense allocation for her firm's retainer. It's all legal."
"The necklace?" Arthur chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "Matthias, do you really think I drove through a blizzard from Manhattan to Greenwich on Christmas Eve because of a diamond necklace you bought for your mistress?"
Matthias blinked, confused. "Then why are you here?"
"Three days ago," Arthur explained, opening the leather dossier just enough for Matthias to see the top document, "an anonymous courier delivered a sealed package to my firm. Inside was a complete set of blueprints for this mansion, along with a schedule of tonight's event, a list of every guest present, and a corporate memorandum from Dre Global Logistics regarding the Hensley acquisition."
Matthias’s face drained of color. "What memorandum?"
"The one where your father’s board agreed to liquidate the European logistics subsidiary," Arthur said coldly. "The subsidiary that holds eighty million dollars in pension funds for three thousand dock workers in Boston and Rotterdam."
I watched my husband’s reaction carefully. The subtle twitch of his left eyelid, the flare of his nostrils—these were the same physiological responses I saw in ER patients when they realized a trauma was far worse than they initially thought.
"That... that memorandum is classified," Matthias stammered. "It was locked in the primary server room in the basement of this house."
"And yet," I interjected, stepping forward, "someone photocopied it. And beneath the diagram of this house, they wrote six words: Collateral losses within acceptable parameters."
Matthias looked between me and Arthur. "What does that mean?"
"It means, Matthias," I said, my voice dropping to a razor-sharp whisper, "that someone in this room isn't just planning to steal those pension funds tonight. Someone is planning an incident—a fire, an explosion, or a structural emergency—to destroy the physical server records located in your father's basement vault while sixty high-profile guests are inside."
Fiona Vale, who had slowly edged closer to listen, let out a sharp, choked gasp, dropping her glass of champagne. The glass shattered across the marble floor, sparkling under the Christmas lights like crushed diamonds.
"Matthias..." Fiona whimpered, her hands trembling as she grabbed his sleeve. "What is she talking about? You told me tonight was just about finalizing the press release!"
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Matthias shoved Fiona's hand off his arm, his eyes locked on me in sheer terror. "Serena... tell me you're lying. Tell me this is some sick joke to get back at me for New Haven!"
"Look at me, Matthias," I commanded, staring directly into his soul. "I am thirty-two weeks pregnant with your daughter. Do you think I would stand in this house, in these heels, facing your entire family, if I were lying?"
