Chapter 6 - A Confrontation in the Dark
I didn't have time to put the file back. I snapped my phone out, took three clear, high-resolution photos of every page in the folder, shoved the documents back into the drawer, and stepped into the shadow of the heavy velvet window curtains just as the door swung open.
Charles walked into the office, carrying a glass of scotch. He looked tired, his face drawn in the dim light coming from the hallway. He walked over to his desk, took a long sip of his drink, and sat down in his leather chair.
He didn't notice me at first. He picked up his phone and dialed a number, putting it on speaker.
"Is he in casting yet?" Charles asked into the phone.
Beatrice’s voice came through the speaker, crisp and irritated over the line. "They’re setting his shoulder now. The doctor says the collarbone is severely sprained. What did she do to him, Charles? He looks like he was thrown off a motorcycle."
"She’s her father’s daughter," Charles said bitterly. "Don't worry. I have her locked upstairs. By tomorrow morning, she’ll sign the financial releases just to keep her parents from losing their home. Once we control her accounts, we’ll initiate the foreclosure anyway. They won't have the money to fight it in court."
Hearing his calm, cold admission made my blood run cold. They weren't just trying to control me; they were planning to destroy my family completely, taking our savings and then throwing my parents out on the street anyway.
"Good," Beatrice said over the phone. "Make sure she cleans up the broken glass in his room before we get back. I won't have her disrespecting this house any longer."
The call disconnected. Charles set his phone down, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.
I stepped out from behind the curtain.
"You really should lock your patio doors, Charles," I said softly.
Charles jumped out of his chair so fast his scotch glass overturned, spilling amber liquid across his blotter. He stared at me in utter disbelief, his eyes darting from me to the open window behind me.
"How did you get down here?" he growled, reaching toward the desk phone.
"Don't," I warned, my voice flat and devoid of fear. "If you touch that phone, you’re going to find out that Brandon isn't the only one in this house who doesn't know how to defend himself."
Charles paused, his hand hovering over the receiver. He looked at my posture, at the calm, cold certainty in my eyes, and for the first time, a flicker of genuine hesitation crossed his face.
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"You think you’re brave, girl?" Charles spat, trying to regain control of the room. "You’re trespassing in my office. I can call the police right now and have you arrested for assault and breaking and entering."
"Go ahead," I replied, pulling my phone from my pocket and holding it up. "Call them. And while they’re on their way, I’ll forward these photos of your fraudulent debt acquisition documents to the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation and the state banking commission. Falsifying notarized dates on real estate foreclosures is a felony, Charles. How do you think your holding company will survive a state audit?"
