Chapter 3 - The Broken Seal
Adrian walked into his private surveillance control room beneath the mansion. His chief of security, Marcus, was already sitting in front of twelve glowing ultra-high-definition monitors, scrubbing through the estate’s multi-angle security footage.
""Tell me what you found, Marcus,"" Adrian ordered, leaning over the console.
Marcus grimaced, pulling up a series of time-stamped video clips. ""Boss, it doesn't look like an accident. Take a look at camera six, covering the western perimeter.""
On the screen, Natalie’s black luxury SUV pulled through the secondary gate at exactly 1:45 PM. The footage showed her parking near the high stone wall, directly under the blinding, unshaded July sun. But what happened next made Adrian’s blood boil.
Natalie didn't exit immediately. She sat in the idling vehicle for four minutes. Then, the footage showed her opening the rear door, reaching in, and deliberately draping a thick, dark sunshade over Owen’s rear window—not to protect him from the sun, but to completely obscure anyone from seeing inside from the main driveway. She left the vehicle, locked it with the key fob—the lights flashed twice, confirming the locks worked perfectly—and walked directly toward the rose garden.
""Now watch camera nine,"" Marcus said grimly.
The angle switched to the secluded rose path. Grant Mercer was standing there, pretending to take a phone call. Natalie approached him, exchanged hurried words, and handed him a small, dark object. Grant slipped it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and hurried toward Victor Shaw’s parked Mercedes.
""Maisie's story is verified down to the second,"" Marcus noted with quiet anger. ""The lock didn't malfunction. She locked that baby in there on purpose, knowing the temperature inside would exceed one hundred and twenty degrees within twenty minutes.""
""And she told Mrs. Bell that Owen was upstairs sleeping,"" Adrian murmured, his voice deadly calm. ""She wanted us to sit in that study with Victor for two hours discussing court filings while my son roasted to death outside. When he was found dead, what would the narrative have been?""
""Neglect,"" Marcus answered coldly. ""The notorious mafia figure, completely unfit to raise a child, neglected his late wife’s baby while drinking scotch and planning illegal enterprises. Natalie would have walked into court tomorrow morning as the grieving, responsible aunt who warned everyone, claiming full control of Caroline's eighty-million-dollar trust fund.""
""Caroline's trust fund,"" Adrian repeated slowly.
When Adrian’s wife Caroline died in a suspicious single-car collision eight months ago, her will stipulated that her family’s massive inheritance trust of eighty million dollars was to be managed exclusively by the legal guardian of her surviving child. If Owen died, the entire trust reverted instantly and unconditionally to Caroline’s next of kin: her older sister, Natalie.
""Bring Victor Shaw and Grant Mercer down to the wine cellar,"" Adrian ordered, his eyes blazing with merciless fury. ""Keep Natalie locked in the guest sitting room on the second floor. Take her phone, strip her purse, and do not allow her a drop of water until I get down there.""
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""Understood, Boss.""
Adrian walked out of the surveillance room, his mind racing. For eleven years, Victor Shaw had been his confidant, his legal shield, the man who knew where all the bodies were buried—both figuratively and literally. If Victor had crossed the line and betrayed him for money, it meant Adrian had been walking through a minefield blindfolded for years.
