Chapter 6: Midnight Audit
The grandfather clock in the grand hallway struck twelve with a deep, resonating chime that vibrated through the floorboards of the east wing. Outside my window, a freezing autumn rain beat a relentless tattoo against the leaded glass panes, washing the rolling lawns in sheets of silver gray under the pale moonlight.
I sat at the edge of the emerald-draped four-poster bed, fully dressed in my dark gray traveling skirt and a simple black turtleneck. My canvas duffel bag lay packed and zipped beside the door. There was no sleep for me tonight; the air in the manor was too charged with impending reckoning.
A soft, distinct knock sounded at my door. Three measured raps—our prearranged signal.
I crossed the room silently and turned the heavy brass handle. Julian stood in the dimly lit hallway, wearing a dark wool overcoat thrown over his black button-down shirt. His breath plumed slightly in the cold corridor air.
"The freeze order went through twenty minutes ago," Julian whispered, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation. "The state attorney general's financial crimes unit has locked down the routing numbers. But Gable just tried to initiate an emergency manual override from her office terminal downstairs."
"She knows," I said, a cold shiver running down my spine. "She knows the accounts are frozen."
"She knows something is wrong, but she doesn't know the full extent," Julian replied, his eyes sharp and focused in the dim light. "Right now, she's shredding physical receipts in her basement office to cover her tracks before the morning audit. I need you to come with me to the security monitoring room."
"The security room?" I asked, hesitating. "If Thomas or Gable sees me—"
"They won't see anyone," Julian interrupted, his voice dropping into an absolute command. "The east stairwell is clear. I've disabled the corridor motion sensors for the next ten minutes. I want you to see the look on her face when the terminal locks her out permanently. You earned that right the moment I found you starving on that pantry floor."
We moved through the shadows of Vance Manor like ghosts, slipping down the narrow back service stairs that bypassed the grand formal rooms. The air grew damp and cool as we descended toward the subterranean levels, where the massive stone foundations of the estate gave way to utility corridors and administrative offices.
The security monitoring room was bathed in the harsh, flickering green glow of a dozen high-definition monitor screens displaying every corner of the estate. On the central screen, Mrs. Gable sat at her walnut desk, her hair slightly disheveled, her face pale and slick with sweat as her fingers flew across the keyboard in a frantic, desperate rhythm. A heavy cross-cut shredder roared beside her, chewing through thick stacks of green-and-white computer paper.
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Julian stepped up to the main console, tapping a sequence of override codes into the master terminal. On the screen, Mrs. Gable's terminal screen suddenly flashed a brilliant, solid red, displaying a stark, unyielding error message: ACCESS DENIED - ACCOUNT FROZEN UNDER PENAL CODE 484.
We watched through the camera feed as Mrs. Gable stopped typing, her hands hovering frozen over the mechanical keys. Her mouth dropped open in a silent, horrified gasp as she stared at the glowing red monitor. She slowly turned her head toward the office door, her eyes wide with sudden, dawning terror as the reality of her unraveling empire finally closed in around her.
