Chapter 5: The Spring Clause
Marcus read the note three times under the desk lamp in the monitoring room, holding the two torn halves together with the careful precision of a man who understood exactly what he was looking at.
"The trust documents," Chadworth said.
"What does that mean in practical terms?"
Marcus set the note down.
"When did you last update your estate trust?"
"Eight months ago.
After the engagement."
"And what changed in that update?"
Chadworth was very still.
"I added Sabina as a co-trustee.
Effective upon marriage.
The signing was scheduled for — "
"Spring," Marcus said.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
"If she became co-trustee," Chadworth said slowly, "she would have joint authority over the girls' inheritance.
Over the asset structure.
Over decisions about their guardianship in the event that I — " He stopped.
"Yes," Marcus said.
"The girls are the only obstacle." Chadworth repeated the line from the note.
"That's not a figure of speech."
"No." Marcus picked up his pen.
"It isn't." He looked at Chadworth directly.
"We need to move the trust signing date.
Quietly.
And we need to understand who wrote that note, because it wasn't Sabina."
"Aldric Mourne."
"Almost certainly.
But we need to confirm it." Marcus made a note.
"I also want to know what *handle the maid first* was intended to mean in practical terms.
Whether that meant dismissal — or something more deliberate."
The word sat in the room like something with weight.
Chadworth stood and walked to the monitors.
It was past ten o'clock.
The mansion was quiet.
The girls' rooms were dark.
Sabina's light was still on — her shadow moved once across the frosted glass of her bedroom window, then was still.
"She's waiting for me to come home," Chadworth said.
"Then come home," Marcus said.
"Tomorrow morning.
Surprised to finish early.
Warm.
Normal.
Give her nothing."
"And in the meantime?"
"In the meantime, I file an emergency application to freeze the trust amendment.
I do it through a subsidiary filing so her name doesn't appear in any notification.
And I contact a colleague in the financial crimes unit — informally, for now — to begin building a picture of Velloran and Mourne."
Chadworth turned from the monitors.
"How long do we need?"
"A week.
Maybe less, if the financial records move quickly." Marcus closed his document case.
"Can you spend a week in this house with her and show nothing?"
Chadworth thought about Gemma pressing her lips together so hard they went white.
About Lorelai shutting her book before she was even asked.
About Rosamund's hand tightening on the cabinet door.
"Yes," he said.
"Then go home tomorrow.
Be the man she expects." Marcus stood.
"One more thing."
"What?"
"Don't tell the girls anything.
Not yet.
Children carry things on their faces without knowing it, and Sabina will be watching them closely now that you haven't responded to her messages."
Chadworth nodded.
He picked up his phone.
He typed: *Sorry — long day.
Just landed.
Missed you.
See you tomorrow morning.*
He stared at the words for a moment.
Then he sent them.
Across the mansion, on the bedroom monitor, Sabina's shadow moved.
She picked up her phone.
He watched her read the message.
Watched her shoulders drop — not in relief, but in the particular relaxation of someone whose calculation has been confirmed.
She typed back immediately: *Can't wait.
The girls were wonderful today.
Sleep well.*
Chadworth set his phone face-down on the desk.
Darvell, who had been quiet in the corner for the past hour, spoke without looking up from his own screen.
"The financial records came through twenty minutes ago.
I've been going through them."
"And?"
Darvell turned his monitor so Chadworth could see.
The screen showed a transaction log — dates, amounts, account numbers.
The transfers from Velloran to Sabina's sister.
A second series of payments to a private investigator whose name Chadworth didn't recognize.
A third series, smaller and more irregular, to a number that Darvell had circled in red.
"That third account," Chadworth said.
"What is it?"
"It belongs to a woman named Petra Voss.
She works for a private legal firm that specializes in — " Darvell paused.
" — custody restructuring."
Chadworth looked at the circled number.
"They were already planning for after the marriage," he said.
"The first payment to Petra Voss was made eleven months ago," Darvell said.
"Before you were even formally engaged."
The monitoring room was very quiet.
Chadworth looked at the screen for a long time.
Then he said: "Wake me if anything moves tonight."
He walked to the door.
Stopped.
Turned back.
"Darvell.
The note Rosamund found.
The handwriting.
Can we match it?"
"Already sent a photo to the analyst.
We'll have a comparison by morning."
Chadworth nodded and left.
In her room across the mansion, Sabina turned off her light at ten forty-seven.
May you like
She slept without difficulty, as far as the camera could tell.
That, Chadworth thought, was the most revealing thing of all.
