Chapter 5 - The Silver Drive
The air in Damian’s private study was thick with the scent of old leather, polished mahogany, and tension.
Damian sat behind his heavy desk, surrounded by three top-tier corporate attorneys sitting in leather chairs. Laptops were open, documents were spread across the rug, and high-level strategy was being debated in hushed, urgent tones.
The heavy oak door opened softly.
Clara stepped inside, holding a small silver tray with a fresh pot of coffee and four cups. Oliver was not with her; she had left him in the playroom under the direct supervision of Marcus and two trusted security guards.
"Thank you, Clara," Arthur Pendelton, Damian’s chief legal counsel, said without looking up from his tablet. "Just leave it on the side table."
Clara set the tray down, but she didn't leave. She stood near the desk, waiting until the lawyers finished reviewing a clause regarding state trust laws.
Damian looked up, noticing her hesitation. "Is something wrong, Clara? Is Oliver alright?"
"Oliver is playing with his blocks, Mr. Blackwood," Clara said quietly. "I need to speak with you alone."
Arthur Pendelton frowned. "Miss Bennett, we are currently preparing a motion for the Supreme Court. Personal domestic matters can wait."
"This isn't a domestic matter," Clara said firmly, looking directly at Damian. "It's about Evelyn Harrow."
Damian immediately stood up from his chair. He looked at his legal team. "Gentlemen, give us five minutes."
Arthur looked surprised, but he nodded, gathering his files as the three lawyers filed out of the study, closing the heavy oak door behind them.
Damian stepped around his desk. "What did you find?"
Clara reached into her pocket and placed the silver USB drive on the mahogany desk between them.
"Sarah, one of the housemaids, gave this to me ten minutes ago," Clara explained. "Evelyn ordered her to hide it in your private safe last night before the police took her away. Sarah was too frightened to do it."
Damian stared at the silver object, his eyes narrowing. "Did Sarah say what's on it?"
"She said Evelyn claimed it contained video files that would destroy the Blackwood family if she was ever prosecuted."
Damian picked up the drive. Without a word, he walked over to his laptop, inserted the metal drive into the side port, and accessed the directory.
A single folder appeared on the screen, protected by an eight-character password.
"It's encrypted," Damian muttered, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.
"Try Oliver's birthday," Clara suggested softly.
Damian typed in six digits: 04-12-22.
The lock icon vanished. The folder opened.
Inside were dozen of video files spanning four years, labeled meticulously by date and time.
Damian clicked on the earliest file, dated three years ago—six months after his wife Eleanor had passed away.
The screen flickered to life. The video showed the primary master bedroom of Blackwood House. Eleanor Blackwood lay in a hospital bed set up in the center of the room, pale, thin, and visibly frail from her long battle with terminal illness.
Standing beside her bed was Evelyn Harrow, holding a glass of water and a small brown bottle of liquid medication.
Damian gasped, leaning heavily against the desk as he stared at the screen. "Eleanor..."
In the video, Eleanor weakly waved her hand away. "No, Evelyn... the doctor said no more sedatives today. I want to see Damian... I want to see my baby..."
Evelyn's face in the video was cold, void of all sympathy. "Damian is in New York on business, Eleanor. And Oliver is sleeping. You need your rest."
Evelyn leaned over the frail woman, forcibly placing the glass to Eleanor's lips, forcing her to swallow the liquid. Within two minutes, Eleanor's eyes rolled back, and she fell into a deep, unnatural stupor.
Then, the camera captured something far worse.
Evelyn stepped over to the nightstand, picked up Eleanor's leather-bound journal, and pulled out a signed, blank legal codicil paper bearing Eleanor's authentic signature—a document meant for updating her charitable donations.
Evelyn laid the paper flat, pulled out a fountain pen, and began carefully writing text above Eleanor's signature—text that established Evelyn Harrow as the sole trustee of Oliver's forty-million-dollar trust in the event of Eleanor's death.
Damian slammed his fist onto the mahogany desk with enough force to crack the polished wood.
"She poisoned her," Damian roared, his voice trembling with a terrifying mix of grief and fury. "My wife didn't die of heart failure from her illness... Evelyn was over-sedating her to keep her incoherent while she forged the trust codicil!"
Clara covered her mouth, tears springing to her eyes as she watched the tragic footage on the screen. "She's been planning this for four years. From the very beginning."
Damian stood towering over the desk, his body shaking with pure rage. The murder of his wife, the systematic abuse of his son, the theft of his family's fortune—it had all been executed by the woman he had trusted as a second mother.
He closed the laptop with a sharp snap, pulling the silver drive from the port, gripping it tightly in his fist.
"Arthur!" Damian shouted toward the door.
The heavy oak door flew open immediately, Arthur Pendelton stepping inside with a look of alarm. "Damian, what happened?"
Damian held out the silver drive, his face a terrifying mask of absolute vengeance.
"Cancel the trust defense motion," Damian commanded, his voice cold as liquid nitrogen. "Contact the State Attorney General directly. Tell him I am handing over video evidence of premeditated murder, forgery, and grand larceny."
Arthur took the drive, his jaw dropping as he realized the magnitude of what had just been uncovered. "My God..."
"Tell the prosecutor that Evelyn Harrow will not just spend the rest of her life in prison," Damian said, stepping toward the door. "I am going to ensure she dies behind bars."
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He turned to Clara, offering his hand.
"Come with me, Clara," Damian said softly, his voice instantly softening as he looked at her. "Let's go tell my son that his mother's memory is finally clean."
