Chapter 5 - The Glass House Shatters
The conservatory was located at the eastern wing of the estate—a soaring, two-story glass pavilion filled with rare tropical palms, blooming orchids, and an ornate limestone fountain. Claire had designed it during the final year of her life, calling it her sanctuary when the chemotherapy made the winter air outside unbearable.
Rebecca sat on an antique wrought-iron bench beneath a towering ficus tree.
She was still wearing her cream cashmere cardigan, but the illusion of untouchable elegance was completely obliterated. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair was disheveled, and her expensive manicure was ruined where she had bitten her nails down to the quick during two hours of isolation.
Two Vanguard guards stood motionless by the arched glass doors.
When Daniel walked into the conservatory, accompanied by Arthur Vance and Margaret Higgins, Rebecca sprang to her feet.
"Daniel!" she cried, her voice echoing shrilly off the glass panels. "This is false imprisonment! I have rights in this state! You cannot hold me under armed guard like a criminal! Where is Julian? Did Julian check on Emma?"
"Julian is currently in the back of a police transport on the Edens Expressway," Daniel said, stopping five feet from her. "He gave a full, sworn confession to Detective Brody fifteen minutes ago."
Rebecca’s mouth opened slightly. The color drained from her cheeks, leaving her skin looking like damp chalk.
"He... he’s lying," she stammered, backing away until the iron edge of the bench hit the back of her knees. "Whatever he said, he’s lying to save himself! He’s an unstable man, Daniel! You know the Sterlings hate you!"
"We have the external drive, Rebecca," Arthur Vance said, opening a leather binder. "We have the wire logs from Vanguard Strategic Holdings in the Cook Islands. We have the digital photographs you took of the Meridian Logistics merger drafts. And we have your personal journals."
At the mention of the journals, Rebecca made a small, choked sound. She reached out, steadying herself against the damp stone rim of the fountain.
"You read them," she whispered.
"I read every word," Daniel said.
His voice was so quiet, so devoid of rage, that it sounded like a funeral sermon.
"You threw Claire’s silver locket into the incinerator," Daniel said.
"She wouldn't stop talking about her!" Rebecca suddenly shrieked, the venom that had been simmering beneath her pristine exterior finally erupting in a fountain of raw, psychotic entitlement. "Claire was dead! She was in the ground! But her ghost was in every room! Her portraits on the walls, her foundation, her staff looking at me like I was a substitute teacher! And that miserable little girl... looking at me with Claire’s eyes every single morning!"
Margaret Higgins gasped, tears spilling over her wrinkled cheeks.
"I gave up my life for you, Daniel!" Rebecca yelled, taking a frantic step forward, her hands clawing the air. "I married a widower who spent twenty hours a day in boardrooms! I ran your social calendar! I made you respectable in the city! And all you cared about was that weak, broken little brat!"
"Margaret," Daniel said, not taking his eyes off his wife.
"Yes, Mr. Harrison?"
"Did you find the locket?"
Mrs. Higgins reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a small, tarnished silver chain. At the end hung an oval locket, slightly scorched along the hinge, but intact.
"I pulled it out of the flue the morning she threw it in, sir," Margaret wept softly. "I kept it in my jewelry box in the carriage house. I was terrified she’d fire me if I gave it back to Emma. I’m so sorry, Mr. Harrison. I’m so sorry."
"You did well, Margaret," Daniel said gently. "Thank you."
He turned back to Rebecca.
"The state’s attorney has issued an arrest warrant for aggravated battery to a child, unlawful restraint, and felony corporate espionage," Daniel informed her. "Uniformed officers are at the security gate right now."
Rebecca’s knees buckled. She dropped onto the wrought-iron bench, her hands trembling violently. "Daniel... please. Think of the press. Think of your reputation! The papers will tear Harrison Capital apart! You’ll be a laughingstock on Wall Street!"
Daniel stepped closer, leaning down until his face was inches from hers.
"I am worth eleven billion dollars, Rebecca," he whispered. "I don't give a damn about Wall Street. I don't give a damn about the papers. But I will spend every single cent I have on earth to ensure that when your trial begins, the judge gives you the maximum sentence allowed by the laws of this state."
The heavy glass doors of the conservatory opened.
Four uniformed officers from the Glencoe Police Department entered, accompanied by Detective Brody.
"Rebecca Harrison," Brody announced, unhooking a pair of steel cuffs. "Turn around and place your hands behind your back."
As the metal clicked shut around her wrists, Rebecca began to scream—a high, unhinged wail that bounced off the glass walls, scattering the finches resting in the ficus canopy above.
May you like
Daniel did not watch them drag her away down the stone path.
He took the silver locket from Mrs. Higgins’s hand, closed his fingers around the cool metal, and walked back toward the main house to find his daughter.
