Chapter 7 - The Trap is Sprung
Callum led Harper down the grand staircase, ignoring the gasps of the wealthy guests below who noticed the blood-stained sleeve of his suit and the weapon in his hand.
The string quartet stopped playing. The room fell into a terrified, breathless hush.
"Callum?" Laurel Vance asked, stepping forward from the crowd, her diamond bracelet flashing. "What is the meaning of this? Why is that disgusting maid back in this house?"
"Shut up, Laurel," Callum said, his voice cutting through the ballroom like ice. "Where is my uncle?"
Right on cue, Graham Mercer walked into the ballroom from the side entrance, flanked by four heavy-set security guards. He had a smug smile on his face, believing Harper was still trapped on the roof or dead on the pavement.
"I'm right here, nephew," Graham said smoothly. "And I see you've found our little thief. Guards, take her."
"The only thief in this room is you, Graham," Callum said, lifting the heavy leather ledger for the entire high-society crowd to see. "Twenty years ago, my father was accused of stealing sixty million dollars from our family. He died in a fire before he could defend himself. But this ledger, hidden by Rose Dunn twenty years ago in the Blue Room, says otherwise."
The crowd erupted into frantic whispers. Graham’s eyes narrowed, his hands balling into fists.
"That's a forgery," Graham hissed. "You're letting a crazy maid destroy our family name."
"Is this a forgery too?" Callum asked, pulling out the typed letter detailing the warehouse fire coordinates, signed with Graham’s personal seal. "You planned the fire, Graham. You murdered my father because he found out you were selling weapons through our shipping lines to enemies of the commission."
Graham’s face transformed from an elegant businessman into a cornered predator. He looked around the room, realizing the other powerful mafia bosses in attendance were looking at him with cold, judgmental eyes. In their world, stealing from the family and killing your own blood was the ultimate, unforgivable sin.
"You think you can take me down in my own house, boy?" Graham sneered, pulling a silver revolver from his waistband. "I built this empire while you were still crying for your father!"
Before Graham could pull the trigger, a loud, clear voice echoed from the top of the stairs.
"You didn't build anything, Graham."
Everyone looked up. Standing at the top of the marble staircase, dressed in a sharp, elegant dark blue dress, was Vivian Mercer. Her eyes were completely clear, her posture regal and unbroken.
Beside her, holding her arm gently, was Harper’s sister, Willa, whom Callum had secretly brought to the estate for protection.
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"Vivian..." Graham gasped.
"I remember everything," Vivian said, her voice carrying across the silent ballroom. "I remember you locking me away, drugging my tea, threatening my son’s life if I ever spoke the truth. But the truth is out now, Graham. You are a parasite."
