Eli Carrow had been staring at the portrait for eleven minutes before he finally reached for the chair.

The ticking brass clock on the sideboard sounded like a ticking bomb.

Marcus looked from the stack of transfer documents on the desk to his frail, battered father resting against his shoulder, and then down at his eleven-year-old son, Eli.

"Marcus, don't listen to him," Arthur whispered, his pale hands tightening around his son's wrist. "They... they stole from the pension funds too... month before last..."

Marcus’s eyes narrowed. "What pension funds?"

"The employee retirement accounts," Arthur rasped, his eyes burning with outrage. "Sixteen million dollars... gone. They didn't just lock me up to take the company, Marcus. They locked me up to cover up a massive embezzlement scheme before the annual audit next week!"

Marcus looked up at Vincent, his fury rising to a boiling point. "Is that true, Vincent? You raided the workers' retirement fund?"

Vincent’s jaw tightened. He didn't deny it.

"We made bad investments in the Asian real estate market," Susan admitted, her voice trembling. "We were trying to pay it back before Dad found out! The Sterling merger was the only way to replace the missing money!"

"You didn't just commit fraud," Marcus said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy tone. "You committed grand larceny, kidnapping, and treason against your own family."

Without another word, Marcus grabbed his phone and hit speed dial.

Vincent lunged forward, attempting to tackle Marcus to the floor to grab the phone. But Marcus stepped aside, throwing a sharp right hook that caught Vincent square on the jaw. Vincent stumbled backward, crashing heavily into a bookshelf, sending leather-bound volumes raining down around him.

Susan screamed, backing away into the hallway.

"Eli! Take your grandfather to the kitchen, lock the door from the inside, and do not open it for anyone except me!" Marcus ordered, grabbing a brass fireplace poker from the hearth.

Eli didn't hesitate. He wrapped his arm around his grandfather’s waist, supporting the old man’s fragile frame as they staggered out of the study and down the narrow side corridor toward the commercial kitchen.

Behind them, the sound of glass shattering and men shouting echoed through the cavernous hallways of Carrow Manor.

Eli shoved the heavy oak door of the kitchen shut, throwing the thick iron deadbolt into place. He helped Arthur sit down in a soft armchair in the corner of the pantry, wrapping a clean apron around his shivering shoulders.

"You're safe now, Grandpa," Eli whispered, his hands shaking.

Arthur reached up, gently cupping his grandson's cheek. "You saved my life, Eli. Three knocks... you remembered."

"I always remember," Eli said.