Chapter 5 - The Wife ClauseWilla returned to the Kane estate at 2:56 in the morning.
She came alone.
At least, that was what Sterling believed.
Marco’s men remained two blocks away, hidden in ordinary vehicles.
Elena had placed a tiny transmitter inside the lining of Willa’s dress.
“If you say the word sunrise,” Marco had told her, “we come in.”
“And if Everett is surrounded by armed men?”
Marco’s silence had answered.
There were no clean choices left.
The iron gates opened.
Willa walked up the long drive beneath a sky threatening snow.
Sterling waited in the foyer.
No jacket.
No bourbon.
No smile.
“You made it.”
“Where’s my mother?”
“Still at Willow Glen.”
“You said she was being transferred.”
“I said the process had begun.”
Willa wanted to hit him.
Instead, she said, “Everett.”
Sterling gestured toward the staircase.
“Come with me.”
“His medical suite is downstairs.”
“We’re not going to Everett.”
Her pulse changed.
Sterling led her into the library.
Two lawyers sat at a long table.
Dr. Whitfield stood by the fireplace.
Mr. Crowley waited near the door.
On the table lay a stack of documents.
Willa stopped.
“What is this?”
Sterling pulled out a chair.
“Your future.”
“I’m not signing anything.”
“You haven’t read it.”
“I don’t need to.”
One lawyer cleared his throat.
“Mrs. Kane, this concerns the marital transfer provisions of Everett Kane’s private trust.”
Willa looked at Sterling.
There it was.
The reason for the wedding.
“Explain.”
The lawyer adjusted his glasses.
“Mr. Kane’s late father created a succession trust. If Everett dies without a spouse or child, controlling voting shares in Kane Holdings transfer to the Kane Family Foundation for twenty years.”
Sterling’s jaw tightened.
Willa understood.
Meaning Sterling could not simply inherit the empire.
The lawyer continued.
“If Everett dies while legally married, however, his spouse receives temporary control as executor until probate and trust review are completed.”
Willa stared.
“How temporary?”
“Potentially eighteen months.”
“And Sterling needs me to give control to him.”
Nobody answered.
Willa laughed softly.
“Oh.”
Sterling’s expression darkened.
“That’s why me.”
“You were practical.”
“Poor.”
“Yes.”
“Desperate.”
“Yes.”
“Easy to threaten.”
Sterling stepped closer.
“Initially.”
Willa looked at the documents.
“What do they say?”
“That upon Everett’s death, you appoint me as managing executor of his voting interests.”
“And I receive?”
“Five million dollars.”
The number would once have stopped Willa’s heart.
Now it disgusted her.
“You think I’d trade his life for five million dollars?”
Sterling’s eyes turned cold.
“I think you slept in a dead car ten days ago.”
Willa met his gaze.
“And now I know what people like you are willing to pay to keep secrets buried.”
Whitfield shifted near the fireplace.
Willa looked at him.
“Does he know you killed Caroline?”
The entire room froze.
Sterling’s face changed.
Only for an instant.
But Willa saw shock.
Interesting.
Whitfield stared at her.
“Who told you that name?”
Sterling turned.
“What is she talking about?”
Willa almost smiled.
Sterling did not know everything.
That made the room far more dangerous.
She looked between them.
“Caroline Kane.”
Sterling’s voice hardened.
“My cousin’s sister died fifteen years ago.”
“At St. Ambrose.”
Whitfield stepped forward.
“This is irrelevant.”
“Same drug used on Harold Fisk.”
Sterling’s head turned sharply toward Whitfield.
“What drug?”
Whitfield’s mask cracked.
Willa felt a surge of satisfaction.
There were cracks in the alliance.
Good.
She intended to widen them.
“Where did you hear about Fisk?” Whitfield demanded.
“I was there when he died.”
“You were responsible for his death.”
“No.”
Willa stepped closer.
“You were.”
Whitfield’s face went white.
Sterling looked at him.
“Alan?”
Whitfield ignored him.
“You have no idea what you’re saying.”
“I know Harold’s final words.”
That stopped him.
Willa watched carefully.
“Blue ledger.”
Whitfield knocked over a glass.
It shattered against the floor.
Nobody moved.
Sterling slowly turned toward him.
“What blue ledger?”
Whitfield removed his glasses.
His hands were trembling.
Willa’s transmitter remained hidden beneath the seam of her dress.
Marco was hearing everything.
She hoped.
Sterling moved toward Whitfield.
“What does she mean?”
“This is nonsense.”
“You look frightened.”
“I’m angry.”
“No.”
Sterling’s voice became quiet.
“You’re frightened.”
Willa saw it now.
Sterling had orchestrated Everett’s present.
But the crimes surrounding Caroline and Harold belonged to something older.
Something Whitfield feared more than Sterling.
Willa pushed.
“Harold wanted Everett to know.”
Whitfield’s eyes locked on hers.
“Know what?”
“You tell me.”
Silence.
Sterling suddenly grabbed Whitfield by the collar.
“What did Caroline know?”
Whitfield shoved him away.
“Enough.”
His voice cracked across the room.
Everyone froze.
Whitfield breathed hard.
Then seemed to realize what he had revealed.
Sterling stared.
“Enough about what?”
Whitfield looked at Willa with pure hatred.
“You should have stayed homeless.”
Willa answered quietly.
“You should’ve picked a nurse who didn’t keep notes.”
Whitfield lunged.
Crowley caught him.
The lawyers scrambled away from the table.
Sterling shouted, “Stop!”
Whitfield struggled.
“She is going to destroy everything!”
Sterling’s face turned murderous.
“What everything?”
No answer.
Willa took one step backward toward the door.
She had what she needed.
Chaos.
Then an alarm screamed through the mansion.
Not a security alarm.
A medical alarm.
Everett.
Willa ran.
“Stop her!” Sterling shouted.
She tore down the corridor.
Two guards moved from the staircase.
Willa screamed the word.
“SUNRISE!”
Outside the estate, Marco heard.
So did twenty men who had once sworn loyalty to Everett Kane.
The front gates exploded inward ninety seconds later.
Willa reached the basement stairs as gunfire echoed through the foyer.
She did not look back.
The medical suite door stood open.
Whitfield’s assistant was gone.
Everett lay inside.
His monitor flashed red.
Heart rate 132.
Oxygen saturation falling.
Willa ran to the bed.
His pupils were pinpoint.
Overdose.
She checked the IV line.
The bag had been changed.
“Everett.”
No response.
She clamped the infusion.
His heart rate climbed.
“Damn it.”
She searched the medical cart.
Whitfield had removed the labels from most medications, but Willa recognized enough equipment to act.
She opened Everett’s airway.
Adjusted his oxygen.
Checked pulse.
Strong but irregular.
Footsteps thundered behind her.
Marco entered with a pistol.
“What happened?”
“They overdosed him.”
“Can you fix it?”
“I need to know what they used.”
Elena arrived behind him.
She saw the pupils.
“Could be the same sedative.”
“Maybe mixed with an opioid.”
Willa worked fast.
“Find Whitfield.”
Marco turned.
“Alive?”
“Yes!”
She looked at him.
“I need him alive.”
Marco disappeared.
Everett’s breathing weakened.
Willa leaned over him.
“You survived eight months.”
She squeezed his hand.
“You are not dying tonight.”
His finger did not move.
For the first time since discovering he could hear her, Willa felt truly alone.
She kept working.
Minutes passed.
Gunfire above became sporadic.
Then silent.
Elena monitored Everett’s blood pressure.
“Seventy-eight over forty-six.”
“Fluids.”
“It’s falling.”
“I know.”
Willa’s hands did not shake.
They had never shaken.
Not during cardiac arrests.
Not during the night Harold Fisk died.
Not when the review board took her license.
Her hands had always been the one part of her life she could trust.
She administered emergency support based on the signs in front of her.
Everett’s oxygen improved.
Eighty-four.
Eighty-eight.
Ninety-two.
His heart rate dropped.
Willa finally exhaled.
Then Everett coughed.
A weak, broken sound.
Elena stared.
“Willa.”
Everett’s eyelids moved.
Not a twitch.
A struggle.
His brow tightened.
Willa leaned close.
“Everett?”
His eyes opened.
Only halfway.
Gray eyes.
Clouded.
Unfocused.
Alive.
Willa covered her mouth.
He fought to focus on her face.
His lips moved.
No sound came.
She bent closer.
“What?”
His throat worked painfully.
One word escaped.
“Willa.”
She froze.
He knew her name.
Of course he did.
He had heard everything.
But hearing it spoken by the man she had believed might never speak again broke something inside her.
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Hi.”
His mouth moved faintly.
Then his gaze shifted beyond her shoulder.
Fear appeared instantly in his eyes.
Willa turned.
Sterling stood in the doorway.
Blood stained one sleeve of his white shirt.
A pistol hung from his hand.
Behind him, Marco lay on the floor.
Motionless.
May you like
Sterling looked at Everett’s open eyes.
And whispered, “Impossible.”
Related Stories
