Chapter Eighty-Nine: The Missing Witness
Chapter Eighty-Nine: The Missing Witness
Marcus didn’t wait for the elevator.
He took the stairs two at a time.
Oliver was only a step behind him.
Neither man spoke.
The words echoed relentlessly in Oliver’s mind.
Margaret is gone.
Gone.
Not dead.
Not injured.
Gone.
The executive residence was in chaos.
Police cruisers lined the driveway.
Red and blue lights flashed against the marble façade.
Yellow crime scene tape sealed the front entrance.
Marcus flashed his credentials and ducked beneath it.
Oliver followed.
The head of Haywood Security, Ethan Brooks, met them in the foyer.
His usually composed face was strained.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Haywood.”
Oliver’s voice was calm.
Too calm.
“What happened?”
Ethan handed Marcus a preliminary report.
“Power failed at exactly 9:16 p.m.”
“Backup generators activated within eighteen seconds.”
“When the cameras came back online…”
He swallowed.
“…Mrs. Ellis was gone.”
Marcus frowned.
“Eighteen seconds?”
“Yes.”
Oliver looked around the room.
“No one kidnaps a protected witness in eighteen seconds.”
Ethan nodded.
“That’s exactly what’s bothering us.”
Marcus walked toward the security monitors.
Every screen showed the same interruption.
Static.
Black.
Then normal footage resumed.
No masked men.
No struggle.
No broken doors.
Nothing.
Oliver stared at the footage.
“They wanted us looking at the cameras.”
Marcus looked up.
“You think this blackout was staged?”
Oliver nodded slowly.
“Victor doesn’t improvise.”
“He choreographs.”
Upstairs…
Margaret’s bedroom looked untouched.
The bed was neatly made.
A cup of untouched tea sat beside the window.
Her reading glasses rested on an open novel.
Only one thing looked out of place.
The white envelope.
Oliver picked it up carefully.
Inside…
Only three words.
Your move, Oliver.
Marcus examined the handwriting.
“Same ink.”
“Same paper.”
“Same person.”
Oliver folded the note.
“No.”
Marcus looked at him.
“Victor didn’t write this.”
“How do you know?”
Oliver’s eyes narrowed.
“Victor delivers messages.”
“He doesn’t compose them.”
The forensic team continued dusting for prints.
One of the technicians approached Marcus.
“We found something.”
He handed over a small transparent evidence bag.
Inside…
A single chess piece.
A black knight.
Marcus frowned.
“What is this?”
The technician shrugged.
“It was under Mrs. Ellis’ pillow.”
Oliver’s expression changed.
“A knight…”
Marcus looked at him.
“You’ve seen this before?”
Oliver nodded slowly.
“My grandfather collected chess sets.”
“He used to tell me…”
Oliver smiled faintly despite himself.
“‘The knight is the only piece that never attacks in a straight line.’”
Marcus thought about it.
“So whoever left this…”
“…wants us to think sideways.”
Across the city…
Margaret Ellis slowly opened her eyes.
Everything was blurry.
Her wrists weren’t tied.
Her ankles weren’t bound.
She sat in an armchair.
A warm blanket covered her knees.
Confused, she looked around.
A fireplace burned quietly.
Bookshelves lined the walls.
It looked more like an old library than a prison.
A man’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
“I apologize for the inconvenience.”
Margaret looked up.
Victor Sloan stood near the window.
No mask.
No disguise.
For the first time…
She saw him clearly.
Older.
Grayer.
But unmistakably the same man.
Her voice shook.
“You.”
Victor inclined his head politely.
“It’s been a long time.”
“You tried to kill me.”
Victor’s expression remained unreadable.
“If I wanted you dead…”
He gestured toward the untouched tea beside her.
“…you wouldn’t have awakened.”
Margaret stared.
“Then why am I here?”
Victor walked toward the fireplace.
“Because there are things Oliver Haywood deserves to know.”
Back at Haywood Manor…
Oliver couldn’t stop thinking about the chess piece.
He returned to the hidden archive beneath the manor.
Marcus followed.
“You think Harold left another clue?”
Oliver didn’t answer.
Instead, he walked to an old cabinet displaying several antique chess sets.
Most were complete.
One…
Wasn’t.
The black knight was missing.
Oliver reached into his pocket.
He removed the piece found beneath Margaret’s pillow.
It fit perfectly.
The base clicked into place.
Suddenly…
A soft mechanical sound echoed through the room.
Marcus turned sharply.
“What was that?”
A narrow drawer slid open beneath the cabinet.
Hidden inside…
Another envelope.
Yellow with age.
Sealed.
Harold’s handwriting covered the front.
To Oliver.
Oliver froze.
Marcus whispered,
“He wrote this for you.”
Oliver stared at the envelope.
“My grandfather died before I became CEO.”
Marcus nodded.
“He must have written it years ago.”
Slowly…
Oliver broke the seal.
Inside lay a handwritten letter.
Unlike the others…
This one began with his name.
Oliver,
If you are reading this, then circumstances have forced you to seek answers beneath this house.
Oliver’s heartbeat quickened.
He continued reading.
If that day comes, trust very few people.
Marcus Kane is one of them.
Marcus blinked.
“He knew me?”
Oliver smiled.
“My grandfather interviewed every lawyer who ever worked for this company.”
Marcus let out a quiet laugh.
“I never knew.”
Oliver continued.
Do not waste your strength chasing every secret Richard left behind.
Some secrets were created to distract you from the truth.
Marcus frowned.
“What truth?”
Oliver turned the page.
His expression changed instantly.
“What is it?”
Oliver didn’t answer.
He simply handed Marcus the letter.
Marcus read the next line aloud.
The only man who knows where Richard hid the original marriage file… is Victor Sloan.
Silence.
The original file.
Not the forged copy.
The original.
If it still existed…
It could destroy every remaining lie in one stroke.
Marcus looked up.
“This changes everything.”
Oliver nodded slowly.
“No.”
His eyes hardened with determination.
“It changes the game.”
Across town…
Victor placed another log onto the fire.
Margaret watched him carefully.
“You’ve always been Richard’s shadow.”
Victor smiled faintly.
“No.”
Margaret frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Victor looked into the flames.
“I was loyal…”
His voice became quieter.
“…until Richard crossed a line even I wouldn’t.”
Margaret stared at him.
For the first time…
She wasn’t looking at a monster.
She was looking at a man carrying years of regret.
Victor turned toward her.
“The question isn’t whether Oliver can stop Richard’s legacy.”
He paused.
“It’s whether he’ll survive learning the whole truth.”
Margaret’s heart sank.
Because for the first time…
She believed Victor wasn’t lying.