Chapter 3 - The Wiped Hard Drive
Eleanor left Julian stranded in the waiting room under the watchful eye of two uniformed deputies. By 3:00 AM, the Vance estate was silent, shrouded in heavy coastal fog. She unlocked the heavy mahogany door of her late husband’s private study, bypassing the family safe and heading straight for the concealed server cabinet behind the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.
The manor was outfitted with thirty-two high-definition cameras covering every corridor, entrance, and staircase. If Clara had been assaulted inside this house over the last seventy-two hours, the digital footprint would be indelible. Eleanor typed her master administrative code into the console, the blue light illuminating the sharp lines of her aged, aristocratic face.
She brought up the timeline for Tuesday evening—the night Clara had skipped family dinner citing severe morning sickness. Eleanor selected the third-floor private corridor leading to Julian and Clara’s master suite.
The screen flashed a mocking red dialogue box: FILE CORRUPTED OR OVERWRITTEN.
Eleanor’s breath caught. She skipped to Wednesday afternoon. CORRUPTED. Thursday morning. CORRUPTED.
Every single minute of footage from the private residential wing over the past four days had been systematically purged using military-grade data overwriting software. It wasn't the clumsy cover-up of a panicking son; it was the clinical, methodical work of someone who held administrative clearance to the Vance mainframe.
A sudden click echoed behind her.
May you like
Eleanor spun around, her heart vaulting into her throat. Standing in the doorway, framed by the dark hallway, was not Julian. It was Marcus, the family’s estate attorney and her late husband’s most trusted confidant, holding a manila envelope and a set of master keys.
""You shouldn't be looking through those files, Eleanor,"" Marcus said softly, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. ""Some truths cost more than this family can afford.""
