Chapter 3 - The Secret in the East Wing
The rain had cleared by afternoon, leaving the Charleston air thick and smelling of wet pine and blooming jasmine.
Claire spent the morning reviewing the inventory logs from the past two years, sitting at a small oak desk in the corner of Nathan’s office while he attended a board meeting via video link. Her analytical mind—honed by years of managing household budgets down to the last penny—quickly spotted the discrepancies.
Entries for wine purchases that never arrived. Maintenance invoices for repairs to the east wing roof that had never been authorized. And, most damningly, a series of monthly wire transfers routed through a dummy corporation registered in Delaware under the name Vance Holdings LLC.
At 1:15 p.m., a light knock sounded on the office door.
Lydia Barnes stood in the doorway, holding a silver tray with a cup of green tea and a small plate of shortbread cookies. Her silver-streaked hair was pulled back into its customary tight bun; her expression was an impenetrable mask of professional detachment.
“Mr. Reed is still on his conference call with Zurich,” Lydia said, stepping into the room and placing the tray on the edge of Claire’s desk. Her eyes flicked over the ledger open before Claire, noting every detail with practiced ease. “You seem to be settling into your new duties very quickly, Ms. Bennett.”
“I like to be thorough,” Claire replied without looking up from the page.
Lydia’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Mr. Reed is grieving. It is easy for people in positions of... vulnerability to take advantage of his current state of mind. I should remind you that household staff are expected to maintain strict boundaries regarding administrative affairs.”
Claire slowly raised her head, locking her eyes onto Lydia’s. The fear she had felt the previous evening was entirely gone, replaced by a cold, protective anger.
“Are boundaries part of Abigail’s memorandum of wishes, Lydia?” Claire asked softly.
Lydia’s composure did not break, but a muscle in her jaw twitched. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Of course you don't,” Claire stood up, closing the ledger with a sharp thud that echoed in the quiet room. “Just like you probably have no idea why three thousand dollars was wired to a shell company in Delaware last Tuesday using an authorization code assigned to the estate manager’s terminal.”
Lydia stepped back slightly, her eyes narrowing. “You are playing a very dangerous game, young lady. Mr. Reed may be distracted by sentimentality right now, but men like him don't marry cleaning women. They discard them the moment they become an inconvenience.”
“Mr. Reed didn't hire me because of my social status, Lydia,” Claire said, stepping around the desk until she was standing just inches from the older woman. “He hired me because I saw him crying when everyone else in this house was too busy stealing from him to notice.”
Before Lydia could retort, heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. Nathan pushed the double doors open, his expression dark. He looked at Lydia, then at Claire, sensing the electric tension in the room.
“Is there a problem here, Lydia?” Nathan asked, his voice cutting like a razor.
Lydia smoothed the front of her gray wool jacket, instantly regaining her cool exterior. “Not at all, Mr. Reed. I was simply welcoming Ms. Bennett to her new role and ensuring she had everything she needed.”
“She has everything she needs,” Nathan said coldly. “You can leave.”
Lydia gave a slight, formal nod and walked out of the office, closing the door quietly behind her.
Nathan watched the door latch shut before turning to Claire. “What just happened?”
“She knows we’re looking at the books,” Claire said, her heart racing. “And she’s not afraid of us. Which means she’s already secured whatever backup she needs from Julian.”
Nathan walked over to the window, staring out toward the harbor where the sun was beginning to break through the clouds. “Then we don't have much time. If Julian moves to file for emergency guardianship before the end of the week, he can freeze all estate accounts, lock us out of the property, and destroy the physical records before the board can intervene.”
“Then we need the original memorandum,” Claire said. “The one Abigail wrote before she died.”
“It’s not in the safe,” Nathan said. “I checked it three times.”
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“People don't hide important documents in safes when they suspect their staff,” Claire said, pacing across the Persian rug. “They hide them in plain sight. Somewhere personal. Somewhere Lydia would never think to look because it doesn't fit her idea of an administrative file.”
Nathan turned slowly, a sudden realization dawning in his eyes. “The sunroom.”
