Chapter 5 - The Shredded Truth
The next morning, Vance Manor felt different—lighter, yet charged with an undercurrent of impending battle. While Julian handled the arriving trustees with his usual commanding grace, completely dismantling Elena’s carefully laid plans by presenting a happy, well-adjusted Leo alongside Nora, another discovery was being made in the east wing.
Nora had taken it upon herself to supervise the cleaning of the guest suite Elena had occupied. As two maids cleared out the closets, Nora noticed a strange discrepancy in the waste paper basket beneath Elena’s antique writing desk. The portable document shredder was jammed, a thick wad of heavy, cream-colored paper stuck between the steel blades.
Curiosity getting the better of her, Nora carefully pulled the unit apart. Using a pair of tweezers, she extracted several long, intact strips of paper. She laid them out on the polished mahogany desk, her heart hammering against her ribs as she began piecing the words together like a dark puzzle.
The document wasn’t a financial ledger or a corporate memo. It was a private laboratory report dated three years ago—six months before Sarah Vance had died of what the coroner had ruled "sudden cardiac arrest."
Nora’s breath hitched as she aligned two strips revealing the patient's name: Sarah Vance. Beneath it, in the section marked Toxicology Screening, a specific botanical compound was highlighted in red ink: Aconite - Trace amounts detected.
“My God,” Nora gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
A shadow fell over the doorway. Nora spun around, her heart leaping into her throat, only to exhale a sigh of relief when she saw Julian standing there, loosening his silk tie after his meeting with the trustees.
“The board members are gone. We retain full control of the foundation,” Julian said, smiling faintly before he noticed her pale face. “Nora? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
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Without a word, Nora pointed to the desk. Julian walked over, his brow furrowing as he looked down at the pieced-together strips of paper. As his eyes scanned the words Aconite and Sarah Vance, the room temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. The billionaire’s jaw clenched so hard his cheekbones whitened.
“Elena didn’t just want my company,” Julian whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying, cold rage. “She murdered my wife.”
