Chapter 12 - The Unseen Angle
Rose’s words struck Nathaniel like a physical blow.
He pulled back, his sharp, analytical mind instantly dissecting the contradiction. If Rose were Drake’s deep-cover operative designed to secure the Vance fortune through marriage, Drake would have waited until the estate transfers were legally solidified before revealing any connection. Discrediting Rose now—destroying Nathaniel’s trust in her while Eleanor was still alive—jeopardized the entire legal transfer.
Unless... Rose wasn't the operative. Rose was the scapegoat.
"Marcus!" Nathaniel roared through the intercom.
The security chief stepped into the room instantly. "Sir?"
"Pull the raw surveillance footage from the rooftop terrace from the night of the gala," Nathaniel commanded, his eyes narrowing. "Not the master feeds we handed to the police. I want the hidden biometric cameras in the ornamental sconces. The high-frame-rate infrared feeds."
Marcus hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Sir, those feeds were corrupted during the power surge when the terrace door slammed."
Nathaniel turned his head slowly, his predator’s gaze locking onto his head of security.
"I never told you the terrace door slammed, Marcus," Nathaniel said softly. "The police report stated the door was propped open with an extinguisher."
The air in the vault instantly plummeted to absolute zero.
Marcus’s posture shifted. The subservient, loyal bodyguard of eight years vanished, replaced by an unsettling, rigid stillness.
Before Nathaniel could react, Marcus drew his sidearm with blinding speed. But he didn't aim at Nathaniel.
He aimed straight at Rose’s head.
"Step back, Mr. Vance," Marcus said, his voice entirely devoid of its usual deferential tone.
"Marcus..." Nathaniel growled, his body coiling like a panther ready to strike, his hands balling into fists. "You?"
"You always thought the danger came from your social circle," Marcus smiled coldly, keeping the muzzle steady against Rose’s forehead. "From Victoria. From high-society rivals. You never paid attention to the people who opened your car doors, carried your bags, or stood outside your bedroom while you slept."
Rose didn't flinch. She stared directly into Marcus’s eyes, her breathing steady despite the cold steel pressed against her temple.
"The deposits into Leo's account," Rose whispered, realizing the horrifying truth. "You set up that offshore entity. You used my brother's social security number from my employment background check."
"Brilliant girl," Marcus mocked. "Arthur Miller was my older brother. Your father."
Rose’s eyes widened in sheer, disbelieving horror. "What...?"
"Arthur gave his life for the Vance family!" Marcus spat, his calm facade shattering into pure, manic fury as he glared at Nathaniel. "Twenty years ago, when the foundation of the upstate mansion collapsed, Nathaniel’s father ordered Arthur to go back into the crawlspace to retrieve a lockbox containing illegal offshore bonds! The beam collapsed! Arthur was crushed! And Eleanor Vance paid the city inspectors twenty thousand dollars to rule it an accident and deny our family the pension!"
Marcus gripped Rose by the collar of her dress, pulling her against him as a human shield.
"Arthur died for nothing!" Marcus roared. "His wife died of poverty! You, Rose, were forced to become a maid in the very house of the bastards who murdered your father! I watched you scrub their floors! I waited for you to take revenge, but you were too weak! You fell in love with him!"
"Marcus, don't do this!" Rose choked out. "My father would never have wanted this! He never taught me to hate!"
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"Shut up!" Marcus snarled. "The bomb on Eleanor’s chest isn't in Connecticut. It’s right here. Sub-level four. Directly beneath this vault. In three hours, Vance Tower becomes a crater. And the only way you survive, Nathaniel... is if you sign the transfer codes to the offshore trust registered to Arthur Miller's legitimate heir: me."
***
