Chapter 9 - The Office on the Hill|
At eight-forty-five the next morning, I stood outside the massive glass tower of Ellison, Vance & Reed in downtown Newport.
I wore my best grey slacks and a tailored cream blouse. Lily was at a playdate with my best friend, Sarah, who had nearly cried with joy when I told her what happened at the wedding the night before.
I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and walked through the revolving doors.
The top floor of the building smelled of expensive leather, polished mahogany, and old money. The receptionist barely had time to ask my name before Graham pushed open the heavy double doors of his corner office.
He looked completely different today. He wore a sharp charcoal three-piece suit, his dark hair neatly styled, though the slight dark circles under his eyes betrayed his lack of sleep.
“Claire,” he said, stepping aside. “Come in.”
Inside his office, a massive mahogany conference table was already covered in stacks of legal folders, printouts, and financial documents. Sitting at the table was Arthur Ellison, the firm’s founding partner, looking stern and formidable.
“Mrs. Bennett,” Arthur said, standing up and extending a hand. His grip was firm and surprisingly warm. “Thank you for coming. What happened last night was a disgrace to my family, but I assure you, we are going to fix it.”
I sat down in one of the leather chairs across from them.
“Did you talk to the police?” I asked gently.
Graham sat down beside his father, opening a thick blue binder.
“The police spent three hours at Vanessa’s penthouse last night,” Graham revealed softly. “They executed a search warrant based on the financial documents on Lily’s flash drive.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “Did they arrest her?”
“Not yet,” Graham said. “She posted a fifty-thousand-dollar bond through a bail bondsman early this morning after being taken in for questioning. But the district attorney is filing formal charges by noon.”
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He slid a clear plastic sheet across the table toward me. Inside was a copy of a legal document bearing my father's signature.
“We found this in the firm’s digital archive two hours ago,” Graham said quietly. “It’s your father’s real will.”
