Chapter 3 - THE PERFECT FRAME
Every face in the ballroom turned toward Clara.
She felt the judgment arrive before anyone spoke.
A maid covered in paint was one kind of victim.
A maid accused of stealing from a billionaire was something else entirely.
Priscilla stepped backward as if suddenly afraid of her.
“Oh my God.”
Clara stared at her.
The performance was flawless.
The trembling hand near her mouth. The widened eyes. The instinctive movement toward Damian’s protection.
“You planned this,” Clara said.
Priscilla’s fear vanished for half a second.
Only Clara seemed to notice.
Damian handed the phone to Marcus.
“Nobody leaves the estate.”
Harold Kingsley moved forward.
“You cannot detain two hundred people.”
“I can secure my property while a possible felony is investigated.”
“You’ll create a scandal.”
Damian looked at the blue paint covering Clara.
“The scandal already happened.”
Marcus instructed his team to seal the east wing and collect all relevant security footage. Guests were moved into adjoining reception rooms while key witnesses remained in the ballroom.
Clara was escorted to the private office.
Damian walked beside Marcus. Priscilla followed despite being told to remain behind.
“I’m his fiancée,” she insisted. “I have a right to know whether someone tried to rob him.”
Damian stopped.
“You are no longer part of this investigation.”
Her face tightened. “What does that mean?”
“It means stay here.”
Clara almost expected Priscilla to refuse, but Harold caught his daughter’s arm.
“Do what he says,” he whispered.
The east office was a dark-paneled room overlooking the gardens. Damian used it for private negotiations and kept confidential contracts inside a steel safe concealed behind a painting.
The painting had been moved aside.
The safe door stood open.
On the carpet lay Clara’s white access card.
Marcus photographed it before placing it in an evidence bag.
“Do you recognize this?” he asked.
Clara nodded.
“It disappeared three days ago.”
“Did you report it?”
“I told the assistant house manager.”
The assistant house manager, Thomas Keene, had joined them at the office door.
His face went pale.
“She mentioned misplacing it,” he said.
“I said it was missing.”
Thomas shifted uncomfortably.
“You said you couldn’t find it.”
“Why wasn’t it deactivated?” Damian asked.
Thomas looked at the floor.
“I assumed she would find it.”
Marcus’s expression hardened.
“An employee access card disappeared, and you did nothing?”
“I made a mistake.”
“Or someone wanted it to remain active,” Clara said.
Thomas looked at her too quickly.
Damian noticed.
“Check every use of that card from the last seventy-two hours,” he ordered.
A security technician began searching the access system.
Within minutes, he found three entries.
Clara’s card had opened the east service corridor at 7:42 that evening. It had accessed Damian’s private office at 8:57. Then it had opened the ballroom storage room at 9:14.
At each of those times, Clara had been seen working elsewhere.
“The ballroom photographers may have captured her,” Dorothy said.
Marcus collected the photographers’ memory cards.
The timestamps confirmed Clara was carrying trays in the ballroom at 8:57.
Damian looked at Marcus.
“So somebody used her card while making sure she remained visible to witnesses.”
“A deliberate frame,” Marcus agreed.
Clara released a breath she had not realized she was holding.
Priscilla stood in the doorway.
“How convenient.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed.
“I told you to stay in the ballroom.”
“I was worried about you.”
“No. You were worried about what we might discover.”
Priscilla’s face changed.
Harold stepped between them.
“Damian, be reasonable.”
Marcus’s technician interrupted.
“There’s more. The office camera stopped recording at 8:52. It resumed at 9:06.”
“System failure?” Damian asked.
“No, sir. It was disabled manually using an administrator code.”
Only four people possessed that code: Damian, Marcus, Thomas, and the estate’s technology director.
All eyes moved toward Thomas.
He began sweating.
“I didn’t do anything.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“Where were you between eight forty-five and nine fifteen?”
“Supervising the kitchen.”
“The kitchen supervisor says you left at eight thirty.”
Thomas swallowed.
“I went outside for air.”
“Which exit?”
“I don’t remember.”
Priscilla’s voice sliced through the room.
“This is ridiculous. You’re wasting time interrogating management because none of you want to admit the maid is guilty.”
Damian turned toward her.
“How did you get screenshots of messages allegedly sent from Clara’s phone?”
Priscilla blinked.
“They were forwarded to me anonymously.”
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
“Show Marcus the original message.”
“I deleted it.”
“Why?”
“I thought the evidence was more important than the sender.”
Marcus extended his hand.
“Give me the phone.”
Priscilla pressed it against her chest.
“You have no right to search my private messages.”
Damian said nothing.
He did not need to.
Priscilla looked at his face and slowly surrendered the phone.
Marcus gave it to the technician.
Harold protested, threatening attorneys, lawsuits, and political connections. Damian ignored him.
Clara stood near the window, still wrapped in Dorothy’s cloth. The paint had begun drying in her hair, pulling painfully against her scalp.
She wanted to go home.
She wanted Nora.
As if summoned by the thought, Clara’s own phone began ringing inside the sealed evidence bag Marcus had retrieved from her locker.
The screen displayed Nora’s name.
Clara stepped forward.
“That’s my sister.”
Marcus allowed her to answer on speaker.
“Nora?”
At first, there was only frightened breathing.
Then Nora whispered, “Clara, somebody is inside the apartment.”
Clara’s blood went cold.
“What?”
“I heard the front door. I thought it was you, but someone went into your bedroom.”
“Lock yourself in the bathroom. Right now.”
“I already did.”
Damian moved closer.
Marcus was already signaling his team.
“Nora, listen to me,” Clara said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Do not open that door for anyone.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know. The police are coming.”
A heavy sound came through the phone.
Someone had struck the bathroom door.
Nora gasped.
Clara gripped the edge of the desk.
“Nora!”
A man’s voice spoke faintly in the background.
“We only want the files.”
Clara looked at Damian.
“What files?” she demanded into the phone.
The doorknob rattled.
Nora began crying.
Damian took the phone gently but firmly.
“This is Damian Cross. The building is surrounded by police, and your face is already on camera. Leave now, and you may walk away. Touch that child, and there will be nowhere in this country you can hide.”
The line went silent.
Then came the sound of hurried footsteps.
A door slammed.
Marcus confirmed local officers were less than two minutes away.
Clara closed her eyes, shaking.
Damian placed one hand beneath her elbow.
“She’s going to be safe.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No,” he said honestly. “But I know we are doing everything possible.”
The security technician suddenly looked up from Priscilla’s phone.
“Mr. Cross.”
Damian turned.
“I recovered part of the deleted message history.”
Priscilla moved toward him.
“My phone is private.”
Marcus blocked her path.
The technician placed the phone on the desk.
“The screenshots were not forwarded anonymously. They were created on this phone using an editing application.”
Harold’s expression collapsed.
The technician continued.
“The application data includes the original template. Ms. Kingsley typed Clara’s name, copied her profile image, and fabricated the entire conversation.”
Priscilla stared at the screen.
Damian’s face became dangerously calm.
“Why?”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Marcus’s radio crackled again.
“Police have reached Ms. Bennett’s apartment. The intruder fled before they entered. The girl is safe.”
Clara nearly fell with relief.
Damian steadied her.
The officer continued.
“They found signs of a search in the older sister’s bedroom. The intruder left a black duffel bag behind.”
“What was inside?” Marcus asked.
“Documents bearing the Cross Meridian logo. The same documents reported missing from the safe.”
Damian looked directly at Priscilla.
She shook her head.
“No.”
The officer added one final detail.
“There was also a phone in the bag. It contains several calls to a contact saved as P.K.”
The room became silent.
Priscilla backed toward the door.
“You’re all making a mistake.”
Damian removed the engagement ring from her unresisting hand.
“No,” he said. “The mistake was mine.”
Priscilla’s eyes filled with tears.
“Damian, please.”
He placed the ring on his desk.
“You wanted Clara to disappear.”
His voice remained quiet.
“Now you’re going to explain why.”
Before Priscilla could answer, Thomas Keene ran.
He shoved past Marcus, raced into the corridor, and nearly reached the service staircase before two guards tackled him to the carpet.
A second phone fell from his pocket.
Its screen lit up with a newly received message.
Marcus picked it up.
The message was from Priscilla.
May you like
It contained only five words.
TAKE NORA AND FINISH IT.
