Chapter 6 - The Blood on the Marble
The elevator stopped on the twenty-seventh floor.
Our security team locked down the building before Bell could reach the lobby.
But when the doors opened, the elevator was empty.
No Bell.
No envelope.
Only his dark overcoat lying on the floor.
Hunter stared at the security monitor in disbelief.
“That’s impossible.”
The building supervisor rewound the footage.
Bell entered the elevator alone.
The doors closed.
Three floors later, the coat dropped to the floor.
No one exited.
No ceiling panel moved.
No emergency hatch opened.
It looked as if he had vanished.
Samuel stood beside me in Hunter’s office while the guests remained under security supervision in the dining room.
“We need to test the blood,” I said.
Hunter crossed his arms.
“And how do you propose we do that at midnight?”
Samuel took a photograph of the drop on the marble.
“I know a forensic laboratory that can process a rapid familial comparison.”
Hunter laughed.
“Of course you do.”
Samuel ignored him.
I held my father’s ring inside a clean handkerchief.
The gold felt heavier than I remembered.
Inside the band, barely visible, were three engraved numbers.
11-04-09.
November 4, 2009.
The day Daniel’s car went over the ravine.
“Samuel,” I said. “Was this engraving always here?”
He examined it.
“No.”
Hunter moved closer.
“What does it mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe Bell added it.”
“Maybe.”
But I did not believe that.
My father had been obsessive about dates.
He marked contracts, births, deaths, and betrayals.
If November 4, 2009, had been engraved inside the ring, it was a message.
Samuel placed the ring in an evidence sleeve.
“We should search Arthur’s archived records.”
Hunter shook his head.
“You are not taking family property out of this home.”
I turned toward him.
“This is my family property.”
“We are still married.”
“Not for much longer.”
His face tightened.
The words hurt him.
Good.
For years, I had protected him from embarrassment.
Tonight, I stopped.
Isabelle appeared in the office doorway.
She had removed her heels and wrapped a dinner napkin around one bleeding palm.
Victor stood behind her.
“She cut herself when the lights went out,” he said.
My eyes moved to the blood seeping through the cloth.
Then to the drop on the dining table.
“Did Bell cut his hand?” I asked.
Isabelle looked confused.
“I don’t know.”
Samuel stepped closer.
“May I see your injury?”
Hunter scoffed.
“What are you suggesting?”
Samuel waited.
Isabelle slowly removed the napkin.
A thin cut crossed her palm.
The blood on the table might not have belonged to Bell.
It might have been hers.
“Were you near the envelope when the lights went out?” I asked.
“No.”
“Where were you?”
“Beside my chair.”
Victor shook his head.
“You moved.”
She turned.
“What?”
“I felt you pass behind me.”
“I panicked.”
“You went toward the table.”
Her expression hardened.
“You can’t prove that.”
Hunter looked from her to the missing envelope.
“You took it.”
“No.”
“You knew Bell planned the blackout.”
“No!”
He stepped toward her.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t have it.”
I watched them tear at each other.
Less than an hour earlier, they had toasted to their future.
Now neither trusted the other enough to stand within reach.
Samuel’s phone rang.
He answered and listened.
His expression became serious.
“We have another problem.”
“What?” I asked.
“The court approved an emergency temporary guardianship order.”
Hunter looked surprised.
Then relieved.
Samuel continued.
“Until a hearing tomorrow afternoon, Hunter has legal authority over certain financial and medical decisions.”
I stared at my husband.
“You said the petition was pending.”
He recovered quickly.
“It was.”
“You knew this order was coming.”
“I hoped it would protect you from making impulsive decisions.”
“You mean from stopping the transfer.”
Samuel looked at his phone again.
“The order also permits Hunter to authorize psychiatric observation if he believes Kylie is a danger to herself.”
The room went cold.
Hunter straightened.
For the first time since Bell arrived, power returned to his posture.
“You’ve been under enormous stress,” he said softly.
The gentleness in his voice was more frightening than anger.
“I think you need medical care.”
Victor stepped forward.
“Don’t do this.”
Hunter ignored him.
He took out his phone and dialed.
I heard him say, “The court order has been approved. Bring the transport team upstairs.”
Isabelle stared at him.
“You said you were only using the order for the bank.”
Hunter ended the call.
“Plans change.”
“You can’t lock her up.”
He looked at me.
“Just for seventy-two hours.”
My hands trembled, but I kept my face still.
He wanted me gone before the trust deadline.
Before the hearing.
Before the envelope could be recovered.
The private elevator chimed again.
This time, two uniformed medical transport officers stepped out with a woman in a gray suit.
She introduced herself as Dr. Helen Crowe.
Then she looked directly at me.
“Mrs. Vale, your husband reports that you are experiencing paranoid delusions involving dead relatives, stolen embryos, and imaginary conspiracies.”
May you like
Hunter had prepared the story before the dinner even began.
👉 Hunter had finally obtained legal power over Kylie, but the doctor sent to confine her would recognize one detail that proved someone had falsified the entire emergency order.
