Chapter 5 - The Trap Springs
"Nathaniel! My dear boy!" Arthur’s voice boomed through the hallway as the study door swung open. "I was told you canceled the London flight! Is everything all right? You look exhausted."
I watched from the linen closet as Arthur stepped inside, followed closely by Margaret. The heavy mahogany door remained slightly ajar—a detail Nathaniel had intentionally arranged using a small wooden stop.
Through the earbud, I heard every word spoken inside the room with terrifying clarity.
"I'm fine, Uncle Arthur," Nathaniel’s voice sounded flat, impassive. "Just reviewing some legacy files before Friday's board meeting."
"Legacy files?" Arthur chuckled dryly, though there was a sharp, anxious edge to the sound. "What kind of legacy files? The shipping routes for the Q3 audit are already finalized."
"Not shipping routes," Nathaniel replied. "I was reviewing the estate's charitable foundation allocations from two years ago. Specifically, the medical grants paid out to the Sankt Moritz Autoimmune Institute."
A dense, heavy silence fell over the room. I could almost feel Arthur’s pulse spiking through the radio signal.
"Sankt Moritz?" Arthur said, clearing his throat. "Ah... yes. Evelyn's clinic. A tragic matter, Nathaniel, but why bring that up now? It’s been two years. You should be looking forward, focusing on the company’s future—and Eli's future."
"That's the interesting thing, Arthur," Nathaniel said. The sound of papers rustling came through the earbud. "I called the director of Sankt Moritz this morning. At 4:00 AM local time."
"You... you called Geneva?" Arthur’s voice cracked slightly.
"I did," Nathaniel continued smoothly. "And imagine my surprise when Dr. Weber informed me that the Sankt Moritz Autoimmune Institute has no record of Evelyn Reed ever being admitted to their facility. In fact, they don't even have an inpatient wing. They are a pure research laboratory."
Inside the study, Margaret made a small, sharp gasp.
"Nathaniel, listen to me," Arthur said quickly, his tone shifting into smooth, diplomatic damage control. "There must be a administrative misunderstanding! Margaret handled all the logistics for Evelyn's care while you were overseas! She dealt with the local Swiss agency—"
"Margaret didn't deal with a Swiss agency, Arthur," Nathaniel interrupted. His voice dropped an octave, turning into a blade of pure steel. "She dealt with a private pharmaceutical supplier in New Jersey. The same supplier that billed your personal holding company eighty thousand dollars for monthly shipments of Thallium-104 derivatives."
"What are you talking about?!" Arthur roared, his composure finally snapping. "Are you accusing me of something, you ungrateful little brat?!"
"I don't need to accuse you, Arthur," Nathaniel said calmly. "I have the receipts. I have the wire transfers. And as of twenty minutes ago, I have the full forensic analysis of the flash drive my maid's daughter found in the basement yesterday."
"You're insane!" Arthur shouted. "You're grieving and out of your mind! Margaret, call estate security! He’s having a nervous breakdown!"
"Estate security won't be answering your calls, Mrs. Vance," Nathaniel said softly. "I replaced the security detail at midnight last night. The men standing outside this door right now don't report to Reed Global. They report directly to the Federal Bureau of Investigation."
Outside in the hallway, the heavy footsteps of four men in dark suits echoed down the gallery. They moved with military precision, pushing past the open door of my linen closet and stepping directly into Nathaniel’s study.
"Arthur Reed! Margaret Vance!" a loud, authoritative voice barked from inside the room. "You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, federal wire fraud, and illegal detention."
A chaotic crash echoed through the earbud as Arthur tried to shove past the agents, cursing violently. Margaret began weeping hysterically, her polished, dignified persona crumbling into pathetic, desperate shrieks.
"It wasn't me!" Margaret sobbed as iron cuffs clicked around her wrists. "It was Arthur! He threatened my family! He made me give her the drops!"
"Shut up, you fool!" Arthur screamed as he was slammed face-down onto Nathaniel’s mahogany desk. "Don't say another word!"
I stepped out of the linen closet, my hands shaking uncontrollably, watching through the open doorway as the federal agents dragged the two handcuffed figures out into the hall.
Arthur’s face was red, contorted in ugly, helpless rage. As he passed me, his eyes locked onto mine, filled with toxic hatred. But I didn't back away. I stood straight, holding my phone, watching the man who had murdered a young mother finally get pulled into the light of justice.
Nathaniel stepped out of his study last.
He looked at the empty hallway, then at the federal agents escorting Arthur and Margaret down the grand staircase. He took a long, deep breath—the first real breath he seemed to have taken in two long years.
Then, he turned to look at me.
He walked over, stopping two feet away. He reached out and gently removed the tiny earbud from my ear, placing it back into his pocket.
"It's over, Elena," he said softly.
"Is it really?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"The evidence is ironclad," Nathaniel said. "They will spend the rest of their lives behind bars."
May you like
He looked toward the end of the gallery, where the morning sun was finally breaking through the heavy fog, sending brilliant, golden beams of light washing over the hardwood floors.
"Come," Nathaniel said, offering me a rare, genuine smile that transformed his entire face. "Let's go get our kids."
