## Chapter Two: The Room Upstairs
Naomi reached for the handgun beneath her coat.
Detective Cruz signaled to the two officers in the hallway. Julian started toward the door with them, but Naomi blocked his path.
“Stay here.”
“That’s my mother’s room.”
“And someone may be waiting inside it.”
“I’m coming.”
Naomi knew from experience that arguing with Julian when his family was threatened would only waste time.
“Stay behind me.”
They moved through the mansion without speaking.
The staircase curved along the western wall, leading to the private family wing. Martha’s bedroom was at the end of a corridor lined with old photographs and landscape paintings.
The door stood slightly open.
Light spilled through the narrow gap.
Naomi raised one hand.
Everyone stopped.
A soft scraping sound came from inside.
Then the bedroom lamp went dark.
Naomi pushed the door open.
“Police! Show your hands!”
A figure ran toward the balcony.
One officer entered from the left. Naomi crossed the room from the right. Julian caught a glimpse of a dark jacket before the intruder crashed through the balcony door.
Glass shattered.
The man jumped over the low railing and landed on the roof of the sunroom below.
Naomi followed without hesitation.
Julian reached the balcony in time to see the intruder slide down a drainage pipe and disappear into the hedges. Naomi climbed onto the roof, but the man had planned his route carefully.
A motorcycle engine roared beyond the estate wall.
By the time officers reached the front gate, the rider was gone.
Detective Cruz examined the bedroom.
Drawers had been pulled open. Martha’s jewelry case lay empty on the carpet, though several valuable pieces remained untouched beside it.
“This wasn’t a robbery,” Julian said.
“No,” Cruz agreed. “He was searching for something.”
Naomi climbed back through the broken balcony door.
“He left this.”
She held up a black electronic transmitter no larger than a coin.
The device had been attached beneath Martha’s bedside table.
“A listening unit?” Julian asked.
“And a short-range communication relay,” Naomi said. “Someone could use it to speak through a connected receiver without calling Bianca’s phone.”
Cruz placed it inside an evidence bag.
“Can you trace the motorcycle?”
“The west entrance camera may have caught it,” Naomi said.
Julian looked around the damaged room.
“What was he looking for?”
His eyes settled on the portrait above Martha’s fireplace.
It showed Thomas and Martha Hale during the early years of their marriage. Thomas stood with one hand resting on the back of Martha’s chair, smiling at the camera.
Julian remembered his father as a commanding man with a booming laugh and a habit of filling every room he entered.
He also remembered Bianca’s accusation.
Ask Martha why Celeste Laurent died.
Julian went to the hospital before sunrise.
Martha had been moved to a private room under police protection. Her breathing had improved, but the doctor wanted to monitor her lungs for another twenty-four hours.
She was asleep when Julian entered.
He sat beside her, studying her face.
For years, he had thought of his mother as indestructible. Even after Thomas died, she had continued raising Julian while protecting the company from investors who expected it to collapse.
Now she looked small beneath the hospital blanket.
Her right hand was bandaged where Bianca’s heel had broken the skin.
Julian touched the edge of the bed.
Martha opened her eyes.
“You look terrible,” she whispered.
He nearly laughed from relief.
“So do you.”
“I suppose neither of us is at our best.”
He leaned closer.
“Bianca mentioned Celeste Laurent.”
Martha’s faint smile disappeared.
Julian saw the answer before she spoke.
She knew exactly what Bianca meant.
“Mom.”
“This is not the time.”
“It became the time when Bianca tried to kill you.”
“She didn’t push me into the pool.”
“She stopped you from getting out.”
Martha closed her eyes.
“Julian, there are things you don’t understand.”
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”
He stood.
“Someone broke into your bedroom tonight. They were searching for something. A communication device was hidden under your bedside table. Bianca was receiving instructions from someone who mentioned Victor.”
Martha’s eyes opened again.
This time, there was fear in them.
“Victor is back?”
“You knew he was gone?”
“He left the country years ago.”
“He’s been attending charity dinners in Manhattan.”
“Not physically gone.”
Julian stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
Martha looked toward the officer outside her room.
“Close the door.”
Julian did.
She lowered her voice.
“Victor Laurent worked for your father for almost fifteen years. Thomas trusted him more than anyone.”
“I know.”
“No. You know the version we told the newspapers.”
Martha took a shallow breath.
“Victor was brilliant. He understood financial structures, international accounts, tax law, and every weakness in every system. Your father believed Victor was helping Hale International expand.”
“He wasn’t?”
“At first, perhaps. Then money began disappearing.”
“How much?”
“We never discovered the full amount.”
“Millions?”
“More.”
Julian felt the room tilt slightly.
“Why wasn’t he prosecuted?”
“Because Thomas died before he could finish the investigation.”
“And Celeste?”
Martha’s gaze moved to the window.
“Celeste was Victor’s wife. She also worked for the company. She kept records for him.”
“Bianca said she was going to testify against Dad.”
“She was going to testify against Victor.”
“Then why would Bianca believe otherwise?”
“Because Victor raised her.”
Martha’s voice was barely audible.
“He told Bianca whatever version protected him.”
Julian sat down again.
“How did Celeste die?”
“A car accident.”
“Was it an accident?”
Martha did not answer.
“That silence is becoming a habit.”
“I never had proof.”
“But you suspected Victor.”
“Yes.”
“And then Dad died six weeks later.”
“Your father died in a boating accident.”
“Was that an accident?”
Martha’s eyes glistened.
“The coast guard believed it was.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I don’t know.”
Julian moved to the window.
Dawn was beginning to lighten the city beyond the hospital glass. Traffic moved through the streets below as if the world had not changed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were eleven years old.”
“I’m not eleven now.”
“By the time you were old enough, Victor had disappeared from the company. The accounts were stabilized. Bianca was living with relatives in Europe. There seemed no reason to reopen something that had already taken your father.”
Julian turned.
“You let me fall in love with Victor’s daughter.”
“I didn’t know who she was when you first introduced her.”
“You knew her name.”
“Laurent is not uncommon.”
“But you recognized her eventually.”
Martha looked away.
“When?”
“At the engagement dinner.”
Six months.
For six months, his mother had known.
“You said nothing.”
“I wanted to be certain.”
“Certain of what?”
“Whether Bianca knew what Victor had done.”
“And tonight gave you your answer?”
Martha swallowed.
“She came into my bedroom after dinner. She told me she knew about the trust.”
“What trust?”
Before Martha could answer, the door opened.
Dr. Samuel Pierce entered with a tablet.
“I’m sorry to interrupt.”
He checked Martha’s heart monitor, then glanced at Julian.
“Mrs. Hale, I need to ask you several questions about your medications.”
Martha frowned.
“What about them?”
“We ran a toxicology panel because of the confusion reported by the paramedics.”
Julian stepped closer.
“What did you find?”
The doctor hesitated.
“Your mother has been receiving a sedative that was not listed in her current medical records.”
Martha stared at him.
“I don’t take a sedative.”
“We found repeated traces, suggesting regular exposure over several weeks.”
Julian’s thoughts returned to Bianca’s words.
No one believes an old woman who keeps forgetting things.
“What would it do?” he asked.
“In someone Mrs. Hale’s age, it could cause dizziness, memory problems, muscle weakness, and periods of confusion.”
“Could it make her appear to have dementia?”
The doctor’s expression became grave.
“Yes.”
Julian gripped the bedrail.
“How was it administered?”
“We don’t know yet. It could have been hidden in food, drinks, or another medication.”
Martha’s face hardened.
“The nurse.”
“Which nurse?” Julian asked.
“The private nurse Bianca hired.”
Julian remembered the woman.
Lauren Pike.
Quiet, efficient, always carrying a small leather medication case.
“When was she last at the house?”
“Yesterday morning,” Martha said.
Naomi found Lauren Pike two hours later.
She lived in a small apartment in Queens, but the building manager said she had left with two suitcases the previous afternoon. Her phone was disconnected. Her nursing agency had no record of sending her to the Hale residence.
She was not a registered nurse.
The medical license she had shown Julian’s staff belonged to a woman in Wisconsin who had died three years earlier.
Naomi also discovered that Lauren had been receiving monthly transfers from a consulting company registered in Delaware.
The owner of that company was hidden behind several shell corporations.
But one old tax document contained an authorized signature.
Victor Laurent.
By noon, Bianca’s name was circulating through every major news outlet.
Her attorney released a statement claiming she was being falsely accused by a powerful family determined to silence her. According to the statement, Martha Hale had suffered a mental health episode, fallen into the pool, and attacked Bianca when she attempted to help.
The statement also accused Julian of intimidation.
Reporters gathered outside the hospital and the mansion.
Hale International’s stock fell seven percent before the market closed.
Julian’s board requested an emergency meeting.
He ignored it.
That afternoon, Detective Cruz informed him that officers had reached Bianca’s apartment.
It was empty.
Her passport was gone.
So was the engagement ring.
“She knew the audio existed,” Julian said.
“We don’t think she left the city,” Cruz replied. “Airport security has been alerted.”
“Victor?”
“No confirmed location.”
Julian looked through the window of Martha’s room.
His mother was sleeping again.
“Someone inside the mansion helped them.”
Cruz nodded.
“The intruder knew the security layout. The nurse knew your mother’s schedule. Bianca knew when you would be away.”
“My arrival was a surprise.”
“Then perhaps you weren’t the only person planning one.”
That evening, a hospital orderly delivered flowers to Martha’s room.
White lilies.
No card was attached.
Naomi stopped the orderly before he entered and searched the arrangement.
Inside one flower, she found a small plastic tube.
It contained a rolled photograph.
Julian unfolded it carefully.
The image was old and faded.
Thomas Hale stood outside the original Hale International offices. Beside him was Celeste Laurent, a striking dark-haired woman holding a little girl.
Bianca.
Thomas was touching the child’s shoulder.
On the back of the photograph, someone had written four words.
ASK MARTHA WHO BIANCA IS.
Julian showed the photograph to his mother.
All the color drained from her face.
“Where did you get this?”
“It was delivered to your room.”
She tried to sit up.
“We need to leave the hospital.”
“Why?”
“Because Victor knows I’m alive.”
“He already knew that.”
“No,” Martha said. “You don’t understand. That photograph was kept inside your father’s private safe.”
Julian stared at her.
“The safe in your bedroom?”
“Yes.”
“The intruder opened it?”
“He must have.”
“What else was inside?”
Martha looked at the closed door.
“A recorded message from your father.”
“What message?”
“One he made the week before he died.”
Julian’s pulse quickened.
“What did he say?”
“I never listened to all of it.”
“Why not?”
“Because the first sentence terrified me.”
Julian waited.
Martha reached for his hand.
Her fingers were cold.
“The recording began with your father saying, ‘If Victor Laurent ever returns, it means he has finally learned the truth about Bianca.’”
A sound came from the hallway.
A sharp crack.
Naomi turned toward the door.
May you like
The officer stationed outside Martha’s room collapsed against the glass.
Then the lights went out.
