Chapter 9: The First Clue

The Safe

10:00 p.m. – Harrington Mansion, Study

The Harrington home was eerily still, the kind of stillness that pressed against Olivia's ears as if it were something tangible. The police tape that crisscrossed the study door fluttered in the wind from an open window, the only thing moving in the otherwise still house. Olivia stood in the doorway, her flashlight cutting through the darkness. The beam of light danced on the floor, spreading its brightness on the upturned furniture, the papers that had been scattered everywhere, and the faint outline of Victor's body that was still defined on the carpet.

She came in, her heart pounding. The study was a mess, but she was not here to clean up. She was here for answers.

Her eyes fell on the safe behind Victor's desk. It was an enormous antique, its steel door embossed with intricate patterns. Olivia had seen Victor open it countless times, always careful to keep the combination from her eyes. But she had watched him, memorized the series of numbers, and now she hoped it would be enough.

She kneeled in front of the safe, her fingers trembling as she turned the dial. Left to 32, right to 17, left to 46. The lock opened and the door gently swung open.

Inside the safe were stacks of money, jewelry, and papers. Olivia swept the money aside, her fingers rummaging through the papers until she found what she was looking for—a file marked CONFIDENTIAL.

She pulled it out, her breath catching as she flipped through the pages. There were bank statements, transactions, and offshore accounts, but a single name sprang out: Damien Cross.

Olivia's head reeled. Victor had known Damien. He had known her past.

She didn't have time to process the ramifications before a noise in the hallway made her freeze in place. Footsteps.

The Intruder

10:15 p.m. – Harrington Mansion, Hallway

Olivia's heart thudded as she huddled behind the desk, her flashlight turned off. The footsteps became louder, with the slight creak of the floorboards.

She looked around the edge of the desk, her eyes straining to make out in the darkness. A figure entered the doorway, silhouetted against the faint light from the hallway.

The intruder moved forward, their steps slow and deliberate. Olivia held her breath as they moved further into the room, their shadow falling across the floor.

She gripped the file tightly in her hand, thinking rapidly. She could not let them have it.

The intruder stood in front of the safe, their back to Olivia. She took her chance, darting out from behind the desk and making a dash for the door.

But the floorboard beneath her foot creaked, and the intruder spun around.

"Stop!" they shouted; their voice muffled by a mask.

Olivia didn't have to think. She darted out of the room, the file clutched against her chest. The hallway was dim, but she was more familiar with the mansion than she was with the palm of her hand.

She sprinted up the stairs, her chest laboring in her throat. The intruder was closing in on her, their heavy footsteps thudding off the narrow hallway.

Olivia reached the second floor and ran up the stairs two steps at a time, panting for breath. She could hear the intruder catching up to her, the heavy tread closing in.

She stumbled down the last step and fled into the kitchen, looking around for an exit. The rear door was mere feet away, but the trespasser was closing in.

She grabbed a cast-iron skillet from the counter and spun back around, swinging it with all the force she could muster.

The skillet was strapped to the intruder's arm, the pressure giving a jolt up Olivia's wrist. The intruder cursed, retreating, but they steadied themselves, charging again.

Olivia avoided, the intruder's hand brushing past her shoulder. She swung the skillet again, this time at their head.

The intruder dodged, their movements economical and deliberate. They encircled their hands around Olivia's wrist, twirling it until she let go of the skillet.

She cried out as agony shot up her arm, but she didn't give in. She kicked, her heel digging into the intruder's shin.

They cursed, their grip easing just enough for Olivia to break away. She grabbed the file and sprinted for the back door, her heart racing.

The door slammed open and Olivia lurched out into the night, the cold air striking her in the face. She did not look back, her feet carrying her across the lawn and out into the night.

The Chase

10:30 p.m. – Upper East Side streets

Olivia sprinted, her breath coming in rasping gasps. The roads were empty, the city's usual crowd and hubbub dampened at night. The file was clutched tight to her body, the coarse edges digging into her palms.

Footsteps came behind her, heavier with each passing second. The intruder still followed her, their determination undeterred.

Olivia turned, her eyes racing for some kind of cover. She spotted an alleyway in front of her and ran that way, her heart pounding.

The alley was dark and close, the sides closing in on her. She hugged the brick, her breathing short as she listened to see if anyone was following her.

They slowed, the sound of their breathing heavy in the silence. Olivia's grip tightened on the file, her mind racing.

"I know you're here," the intruder called, their voice low and menacing.

Olivia's heart skipped a beat. She recognized that voice.

Nicholas.

The Confrontation

Olivia stepped out of the shadows, her eyes blazing as she stood face to face with Nicholas. He was dressed in black, his face concealed behind a mask, but there was no mistaking him.

"What are you doing, Nicholas?" she demanded, her voice steady in spite of the fear that coursed through her.".

Nicholas sneered, his eyes flashing in the bad light. "I could say the same to you, Olivia. Sneaking around the house, stealing papers—what are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything," she snarled. "But you are. What's in this paper that you don't want me to see?"

Nicholas's sneer faded, his face darkening. "You don't know what you're playing with," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

Olivia took a step back, her grip tightening on the file. "I'm not afraid of you, Nicholas."

"You should be," he replied, his tone icy.

He lunged at her, his movements swift and calculated. Olivia dodged, but he grabbed her arm, his grip like a vice.

She struggled, her other hand grasping at his arm, but he overpowered her. He turned her wrist and she cried out, the file falling from her grasp.

Nicholas snatched it up, a smile returning to his lips as he held it aloft. "Enjoy the delivery," he drawled, his tone dripping in sarcasm.

Olivia's ribcage tightened, but she refused to back down. "You won't get away with it," she spat, her voice trembling with fury.

Nicholas smiled, a chilling, empty one. "I already do."

He turned and left, file clutched under his arm. Olivia was left standing, her thoughts speeding. She could not let him take it from her.

She picked up a loose brick off the ground and threw it. It hit him in the small of the back, making him stumble.

Nicholas whirled around, his face raging with anger. "You will regret that," he growled.

Olivia didn't leave him time to react. She attacked, her fingers tearing at the file.

They fought, the file stuck between them, their gasps coming in ragged spurts. Olivia kicked out, her heel landing on Nicholas's knee.

He groaned, his fingers loosening just enough for Olivia to tug the file free. She backed away, her chest heaving.

Nicholas glared at her; his expression twisted with rage. "This isn't over," he snarled, his voice low and menacing.

Olivia didn't speak, her eyes locked on his as he turned and disappeared into the shadows.

The Revelation

Olivia sat on the edge of the bed; the file open in front of her. Her hands were still trembling, but her mind was rational.

The books were convoluted, but one thing was sure—Victor had been involved in something much bigger than she'd ever have dreamed. The transactions, the off-shore accounts, the strange names—it all pointed to a conspiracy of corruption and deceit.

But there was one name that caught her eye: Helena Harrington.

Olivia's eyes widened as she flipped through the pages, reading the facts with her scanning eyes. Helena had been blackmailing Victor with his secrets and manipulated him.

And now Victor was dead, Helena was the one calling the shots.

Olivia's breathing came in short, jagged gasps as it fell into place. Helena set Olivia up for murder, but Helena hadn't done it alone.

There was a power broker—someone who must be found.

And Olivia meant to find out whom.