2His Fiancée Pressed a Pillow Over His Mother’s Face—But the Black Housekeeper Knew Exactly Why Evelyn Had to Die Before the Wedding

A voice came through the small speaker—cracked, raspy, but undeniably Evelyn Vale’s.

*“I authorized the transfer... of forty-two million dollars... to Thomas Vane’s estate... to settle the debt... signed under my own free will...”*

The recording was spliced, the pauses unnaturally tight, but to an untrained ear, it sounded like an official legal deposition.

“That recording was certified by Dr. Voss two hours ago,” Celeste said with supreme confidence. “Before your mother ‘lapsed’ back into her coma. The court has already granted emergency guardianship of the Van Cortlandt trust to my legal team. The merger goes through at nine o'clock, Adrian. Vale Meridian becomes Kincaid-Arden Holdings. And there isn't a single thing you, your half-dead mother, or your servant can do to stop it.”

“Except this,” Naomi said.

Naomi pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped the screen.

The massive flat-screen television mounted above the library fireplace flickered to life.

On the screen was not a financial document.

It was live video footage from the hallway outside Room 412 at St. Jude’s Restorium.

Two Greenwich police detectives were standing outside the door, flanked by agents from the Connecticut Attorney General’s Special Investigations Division.

And walking out of the room in handcuffs was Dr. Malcolm Voss.

Celeste’s smug smile vanished. Her face drained of all color.

“What is that?” she whispered.

“That’s the Attorney General,” Naomi said smoothly. “David Chen delivered the chemical analysis of the Thalapram vial to the AG’s office at three in the morning. When they raided Voss’s private office twenty minutes ago, they found three audio-editing software files on his laptop—including the raw source clips he used to fabricate that fake recording of Evelyn Vale.”

Celeste spun toward Detective Vance. “Arrest them! They’re hacking private medical records!”

“Detective Vance,” Adrian said, turning his back on Celeste completely. “Miss Vane is currently in possession of stolen prescription narcotics, has conspired to commit premeditated murder, and has engaged in corporate fraud exceeding forty million dollars. If you don't handcuff her right now, I will personally fund the civil suit that strips you of your pension, your badge, and your freedom.”

Vance didn't hesitate. He pulled out his handcuffs and stepped toward Celeste.

“Charlotte Vane, turn around and place your hands behind your back.”

Celeste took two steps backward.

“No,” she whispered.

Then, with lightning speed, she grabbed the heavy antique bronze bust of Arthur Vale from the side table and hurled it directly into the library’s main electrical panel near the doorway.

Sparks exploded across the wall.

A deafening pop echoed through the house.