Chapter 4 - The Midnight Heist
Inside the darkened office, Sabina moved with practiced efficiency. She wore black leather gloves and a dark turtleneck, completely shedding her high-society persona. She approached the large mahogany bookcase behind Chadworth's desk, reached for a classic leather-bound copy of The Wealth of Nations, and pulled it forward.
A quiet hydraulic click echoed through the silent room as the hidden wall panel slid open, revealing the heavy stainless-steel door of the wall safe.
In the monitoring room, Marcus brought up the infrared camera feed, giving Chadworth a crystal-clear view of Sabina’s face. She was smiling—a sharp, triumphant grin of pure greed.
She pulled a small folded slip of paper from her pocket—the access codes she had stolen from Chadworth's private journal—and began turning the digital keypad dial.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"She's in," Marcus whispered, preparing his radio. "I'll coordinate with the local precinct. They're stationed two blocks outside the gate."
"Not yet," Chadworth commanded, his voice cold as ice. "Let her open it. Let her take the documents. I want the charge to be complete and undeniable."
Sabina pulled the heavy steel door open. She reached inside, bypassing bundles of emergency cash and high-value jewelry, and went straight for the thick velvet folder containing the master land deeds for the Prescott Waterfront Development project—a three-hundred-million-dollar commercial deal that was scheduled to finalize the following week.
She pulled the blue folder out and opened it, shining her flashlight over the golden seals of ownership.
"Got you," she whispered to herself in the dark room.
Suddenly, the office door clicked open behind her.
Sabina froze, her flashlight beam sweeping across the room. She shoved the folder into her leather tote bag and reached into her jacket pocket, her hand closing around something small and metallic.
Rosamund stood in the doorway, holding a flashlight of her own and a master ring of house keys. She was still wearing her simple working clothes, her expression cautious but resolute.
"Miss Sabina," Rosamund said, her voice cutting through the dark space. "What are you doing in Mr. Prescott's private office at this hour?"
Sabina slowly turned around, dropping her hands to her sides, her eyes flashing with dangerous hostility. "I could ask you the same question, maid. What are you doing sneaking around the house in the middle of the night?"
"I heard the security panel chime on the second floor," Rosamund replied, taking a deliberate step into the room, keeping herself between Sabina and the door that led toward the children's bedrooms. "Mr. Prescott asked me to ensure the estate was secured every night at ten. Put those papers back, Miss Sabina."
Sabina let out a cold, chilling laugh. "You really don't know when to step down, do you? You think you're some kind of hero? You're a nobody. A servant who scrubs my floors."
"These aren't your floors," Rosamund said quietly, her voice ringing with unwavering strength. "And those documents don't belong to you. I know who you are, Miss Sabina. I saw the man in the dark SUV drop you off at the rear gate last Thursday. I know you've been meeting with Arthur Vance."
Sabina’s laughter stopped dead. Her face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated hatred.
"You've been spying on me?" Sabina hissed.
May you like
"I was protecting this family," Rosamund said evenly. "Step away from the safe, or I will hit the panic button on the master security panel right now."
Sabina didn't hesitate. She lunged across the room, pulling a small canister of pepper spray from her pocket and spraying it directly toward Rosamund's face.
