Chapter 3 - The Black Box

Chadworth did not confront Sabina.

It was the hardest decision he made all week.

At breakfast, she smiled at him.

“Are you flying today?”

“No.”

“You said the trip was delayed.”

“I canceled it.”

Her spoon paused above her coffee.

“Completely?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I decided Canada can survive without me.”

She smiled.

“Good.”

But her eyes did not.

After she left for a spa appointment, Chadworth called Marcus and Rosamund into the study.

Lorelai remained in school.

Gemma was with a tutor in the music room.

Chadworth locked the door.

“Rosamund’s file is gone.”

Marcus looked at her.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“What was in it?”

“Photographs. Dates. Notes.”

“Originals?”

“Some.”

Marcus frowned.

“What else?”

“Copies of messages Sabina sent me.”

“What kind of messages?”

“Instructions. Threats.”

“Why didn’t you send them to me?”

“I did send some.”

“Not enough.”

“I was trying not to turn the house into a battlefield.”

Chadworth stared at the floor.

“It already was. I just didn’t know.”

Marcus looked at him.

“What’s the plan?”

“The box.”

Rosamund said, “Lorelai saw it in Sabina’s dressing room.”

Marcus shook his head.

“We can’t search her private space without consequences.”

“It’s my house.”

“That doesn’t erase privacy.”

“I’m not asking about law.”

“I am.”

Chadworth looked at him.

“Then what can we do?”

“Use the systems you legally control.”

“Cameras?”

“Door access. Staff logs. Network activity. Safe-room inventory.”

Rosamund frowned.

“Safe-room?”

Marcus nodded.

“Sabina asked for a fireproof document safe when she moved in.”

Chadworth looked up.

“She did?”

“You approved it.”

“I approve thirty things a day.”

“I know.”

“Where is it?”

“Her dressing room wall.”

Chadworth remembered the renovation.

“The black panel.”

Marcus nodded.

“Likely what Lorelai called the black box.”

Rosamund said, “Can you open it?”

“Only in an emergency or with Sabina’s consent.”

Chadworth paced.

“What counts as an emergency?”

“Fire. Flood. Threat to life.”

“Stolen evidence about my children?”

Marcus paused.

“That might become one.”

Chadworth stopped.

“What do you need?”

“Proof the file is there.”

“How?”

Marcus opened his laptop.

“Networked safes log access.”

Chadworth stared.

“Why would a safe need a network?”

“Because rich people enjoy making simple objects complicated.”

Rosamund almost smiled.

Marcus typed.

“Here.”

A log appeared.

Sabina had opened the safe at 10:14 p.m. the previous night.

“After I came home,” Chadworth said.

“Yes.”

“Any other access?”

“Three nights ago. Two weeks ago. Repeatedly.”

“What about yesterday afternoon?”

Marcus scrolled.

“There.”

Rosamund leaned closer.

“4:37 p.m.”

“When Lorelai saw her leaving my room.”

Chadworth looked at Marcus.

“That proves timing.”

“Not contents.”

Rosamund said, “There may be another way.”

Both men turned.

“What?”

“Sabina has me bring her clothes to the cleaner.”

“And?”

“She often leaves notes in pockets.”

Marcus frowned.

“What kind?”

“Appointment slips. Lists. Once a receipt from a storage facility.”

Chadworth’s head snapped up.

“What storage facility?”

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Where?”

“North side.”

“Name?”

“Everlock.”

Marcus was already searching internal billing.

“Sabina doesn’t have a family storage unit listed.”

“Could be personal.”

Chadworth said, “Find it.”

Marcus looked at him.

“Legally?”

“Yes.”

“Good answer.”

That afternoon, Marcus returned with an address.

“Everlock Storage, Unit 317.”

“Whose name?”

“Sabina Vale.”

Chadworth frowned.

“That’s not her name.”

“No.”

“Why use Vale?”

Marcus turned the screen.

“Emergency contact is Elias Voss.”

“Who is that?”

Rosamund spoke quietly.

“I know.”

They turned.

“From where?”

“Sabina’s charity dinner.”

Chadworth remembered dozens of guests.

“Which one?”

“The attorney with the silver glasses.”

Marcus searched photos from the event.

Rosamund pointed.

“Him.”

Chadworth stared.

“I know that man.”

Marcus said, “Your estate planning consultant.”

“Not mine. My father’s old firm.”

“He attended two trust meetings last year.”

Chadworth’s voice hardened.

“With Sabina?”

Marcus checked calendars.

“Yes.”

“Without me?”

“Yes.”

Rosamund whispered, “Why would she meet your estate attorney?”

Chadworth already knew one possible answer.

He called his chief counsel.

“Daniel, I need every draft trust document involving Sabina.”

A pause.

“Every one.”

Another pause.

“No. Do not alert Voss.”

He hung up.

Marcus watched him.

“What are you thinking?”

“Prenuptial negotiations.”

“Those were finished.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Sabina hated the guardianship clause.”

Rosamund asked, “What clause?”

“If I died before the girls were adults, control of their trusts would go to an independent trustee.”

“Not her?”

“No.”

“Could she become guardian?”

“Potentially, if we were married and a court approved it.”

Marcus’s face darkened.

“But she wouldn’t control the money.”

“Correct.”

Rosamund looked between them.

“Unless the trust changed.”

Chadworth’s phone rang.

Daniel.

He answered.

“Yes?”

His expression changed.

“Send it.”

He opened the attachment.

A draft amendment.

Prepared four months earlier.

Elias Voss listed as counsel.

It proposed that, after Chadworth’s marriage to Sabina, the surviving spouse would serve as interim trustee of the girls’ family holding company in the event of Chadworth’s incapacity or death.

Marcus read over his shoulder.

“This is not your approved structure.”

“No.”

“Did you sign anything like this?”

“Never.”

Rosamund looked pale.

“Why would she need Rosamund gone?”

Marcus answered.

“Because Rosamund knows the girls are afraid of her.”

Chadworth scrolled further.

Another draft.

This one included language about household instability.

Documented behavioral concerns.

Undue influence by domestic staff.

He stopped.

“What?”

Marcus leaned closer.

“Read that paragraph.”

Chadworth did.

The proposed memorandum described Rosamund as a potential manipulator who had “formed inappropriate emotional dependency relationships with minor children” and might interfere with a future guardian.

Rosamund stepped back.

“She was building a case.”

Chadworth looked at her.

“To remove you.”

“And make the girls look unstable.”

Marcus said, “Or easily influenced.”

Chadworth’s phone rang again.

Daniel.

He answered.

“There’s more?”

He listened.

“What witness?”

His face emptied.

“When?”

Marcus watched.

Chadworth ended the call.

“What?”

Chadworth put the phone down.

“Voss submitted a notarized acknowledgment.”

“Of what?”

“That I had reviewed the amendment.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Signature?”

“My initials.”

“Forged?”

“Yes.”

Rosamund whispered, “Can he do that?”

“No.”

Marcus’s face hardened.

“Now we have a crime.”

Chadworth looked toward the ceiling, as if he could see through it into Sabina’s room.

“Not enough.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow.

“Forgery isn’t enough?”

“Not to understand why.”

“The money.”

“Maybe.”

“What else?”

Chadworth looked at Rosamund.

“The girls.”

Rosamund nodded slowly.

“She needed them afraid.”

Marcus said, “Why?”

Chadworth returned to the draft.

“If I became incapacitated, a guardian could argue the children required stability. If Sabina was the fiancée or wife, she could position herself as that stability.”

Rosamund said, “And if they told anyone they hated her?”

“She could say Rosamund poisoned them against her.”

Marcus exhaled.

“That’s why the allegations started.”

“The bracelet.”

“The manipulation story.”

“The file.”

Chadworth felt the pieces locking together.

Then another thought came.

“Everlock.”

Marcus nodded.

“We can’t enter without a warrant or permission.”

“Can we observe?”

“Yes.”

“Do it.”

That evening, Sabina dressed for dinner.

“Do you like this?”

Chadworth looked up from his phone.

“Black?”

“Yes.”

“You always look good in black.”

She smiled.

“I have a meeting after dinner.”

“With whom?”

“Charity committee.”

“Which charity?”

Her smile paused.

“Children’s Futures.”

Chadworth almost admired the cruelty of the name.

“Late meeting.”

“They’re preparing the gala.”

“Of course.”

At 9:20 p.m., Sabina left.

Marcus followed from two cars back.

At 9:47, he called.

“She’s at Everlock.”

Chadworth stood at his bedroom window.

“Alone?”

“No.”

“Who?”

“Elias Voss.”

Chadworth closed his eyes.

“What are they doing?”

“Moving boxes.”

“Into the unit or out?”

“Out.”

“Where?”

“A sedan.”

“Can you see contents?”

“No.”

“Photograph everything.”

“I am.”

Chadworth heard another voice over Marcus’s line.

Then Marcus swore.

“What?”

“Voss dropped a folder.”

“What color?”

A pause.

“Blue.”

Chadworth’s hand tightened around the phone.

“Rosamund’s file?”

“Could be.”

“Can you get closer?”

“No.”

“Follow them.”

“I will.”

At 10:31, Marcus called again.

“They separated.”

“Who do you have?”

“Voss.”

“Where’s Sabina?”

“Heading back toward the estate.”

Chadworth looked at the clock.

He had maybe twenty minutes.

He went downstairs.

Rosamund was waiting in the library.

“Did he find it?”

“Blue folder.”

Her face changed.

“Then she has it.”

“Or Voss does.”

“What now?”

“We keep pretending.”

Rosamund stared.

“How?”

“Badly.”

The front door opened twenty-three minutes later.

Sabina entered.

She looked surprised to see Chadworth in the foyer.

“You’re awake.”

“So are you.”

“The meeting ran long.”

“How are the children?”

“Asleep.”

“Rosamund?”

“In the kitchen.”

Sabina walked closer.

“Why do you look strange?”

“Long day.”

“You should sleep.”

“I will.”

She kissed his cheek.

Then she started upstairs.

Chadworth said, “Sabina.”

She stopped.

“Yes?”

“Did you ever think about what would happen if I died?”

Her shoulders went still.

Then she turned.

“That’s a horrible question.”

“I know.”

“Why ask it?”

“Because I’ve spent my life assuming I control everything.”

Her expression softened carefully.

“You don’t have to think about that tonight.”

“But you have.”

“What?”

“Thought about it.”

She smiled.

“Anyone who loves you would.”

Chadworth watched her.

“What would you do?”

“Protect the girls.”

“How?”

“Whatever it took.”

“Even if they didn’t want you to?”

Her eyes sharpened.

“Children don’t always know what they need.”

Chadworth forced a smile.

“No. I suppose they don’t.”

Sabina walked upstairs.

When she disappeared, Rosamund stepped from the library.

“She lied again.”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to stop her?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

Chadworth looked toward the staircase.

“When I know exactly what she planned to do after she got everything she wanted.”

The next morning, Marcus arrived before dawn.

He carried a photograph.

Voss standing beside a parked sedan.

A blue folder open on the roof.

One page visible.

Rosamund’s handwriting.

And beneath it, another page.

A photograph of Gemma’s bruised arm.

Chadworth stared at it for a long time.

Then Marcus placed a second image beside it.

A document header visible under the folder.

PETITION FOR TEMPORARY GUARDIANSHIP.

The name beneath it was Lorelai Prescott.

The second was Gemma Prescott.

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And the signature block at the bottom had already been filled in.

Sabina Vale.