Chapter 4 - The Altar of Deceit
03:22.
The red digital numerals burned into Victoria’s vision. Her gaze tracked the nearly invisible monofilament wire snaking over the polished tile, trailing into the seam of the heavy crimson runner beneath her feet.
“Don’t step off the pedestal, little sister,” Evelyn said quietly, her raspy voice steady. “The pressure plate is calibrated to your weight plus twenty pounds of satin and jewels. You step off, the circuit breaks. The entire nave collapses into the wine cellar below.”
Victoria’s breath hitched. She locked her knees, paralyzed in the center of the floral altar. Her bouquet of white gardenias slipped from her numbed fingers, landing with a soft thud at the edge of the velvet platform. “Why me, Evelyn? I loved you! I spent months in a clinic after they told me you were dead! I mourned you!”
“You mourned me by sleeping in Julian’s bed six months later?” Evelyn’s tone was devoid of pity. “You mourned me by taking over my seat on the board and signing off on the liquidation of our mother’s foundation? You were their alibi, Tori. Whether you knew it or not, your sweet, blind compliance forged the bars of my cage.”
Julian’s face twisted in an ugly grimace. He wasn't looking at Victoria; his eyes were darting toward the heavy mahogany emergency door behind him. “Arthur, we have to go. The timer is running down. She’s mad!”
“Shut up, Julian,” Arthur barked, never taking his eyes off the bandaged figure. “She didn't come here to kill herself. She wants something. Name your price, Evelyn. A hundred million? A safe passage back to Europe? A new identity with complete surgical reconstruction? You know I can provide it within the hour.”
“Your money is worthless, Arthur,” Evelyn hissed. Her bandaged hands moved again, pulling away the thick gauze wrapped around her throat.
Victoria gasped, bile rising in her throat. Evelyn’s neck was a map of puckered, purplish graft tissue, but nestled against that ruined flesh was a familiar silver chain. Hanging from it was an antique locket—their mother’s locket.
“I didn't come for money,” Evelyn said, tapping the silver casing with a broken fingernail. “I came for the safety deposit key hidden inside this locket. The key our father gave to me before he died, which you tried to pry from my fingers before you set the fuel lines ablaze.”
Julian flinched. He took an involuntary step back toward the door. “Dad… she has it. She has the vault key.”
Arthur’s calm shattered. A look of sheer, uncontrolled panic washed over his aristocratic features. “Give it to me, Evelyn. That key does not belong to you.”
“It opens Vault 404 at Banque Cantonale de Genève,” Evelyn said, her voice carrying through the empty, echoing hall. “The ledger detailing the exact payments made to sink the Siren’s Call, signed in your handwriting, Arthur. But Julian knows something even better, don't you, Julian?”
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Julian’s skin turned the color of curdled milk. “Don't say it. Don't you dare say it!”
“Tell her, Julian,” Evelyn demanded, pointing directly at Victoria. “Tell your bride what you did ten minutes before the boat exploded.”
