Chapter 5: The Assistant and the Agreement
Cara Simms had worked for Vanessa for two years before Vanessa moved into the Sterling estate.
She was twenty-nine, efficient, and had a talent for being invisible in rooms where important things were said.
Richard found her in the small office off the east corridor at seven-fifteen the next morning.
She was already at her desk, already composed, already holding a coffee cup with both hands like she had been expecting him.
"Mr.
Sterling."
"Sit down, Cara."
"I am sitting."
He closed the door behind him.
"Mrs.
Howell told me she sent two written reports about Sophie's welfare.
She said she was told I had approved of the situation."
Cara looked at him steadily.
"I passed along Miss Vanessa's response."
"Did you read the reports yourself?"
A pause.
"Yes."
"And you passed along a message telling my housekeeper that I was aware and had approved."
"I was acting on Miss Vanessa's instruction."
"Did you believe that I had actually approved it?"
Her fingers moved slightly on the coffee cup.
"It wasn't my place to —"
"Did you believe it, Cara?"
She looked at the desk.
"No."
"Did you ever attempt to contact me directly?"
Nothing.
"Did you have my phone number?"
"Yes."
"My email?"
"Yes."
"Did you use either of them to tell me that my six-year-old daughter was being locked in a bare room and denied food?"
Cara set the coffee cup down.
Her hands were steadier than they had any right to be.
"Miss Vanessa made it very clear that my employment depended on my loyalty to her."
"And what did you think loyalty meant in that context?"
"I thought it meant —" She stopped.
Started again.
"I told myself it wasn't as serious as it looked.
That Miss Vanessa had her reasons.
That you must have known something I didn't."
"You told yourself that."
"Yes."
Richard sat down across from her.
He kept his voice level.
"I'm going to ask you one question.
The answer you give me in the next thirty seconds will determine whether you walk out of this house with a reference or with a subpoena.
Do you understand?"
Cara's face went pale.
"Yes."
"What else did Vanessa tell you to keep from me?"
The silence lasted exactly four seconds.
Then Cara opened the drawer on her left side, removed a thin folder, and placed it on the desk between them.
"She had me draft these six weeks ago," she said.
"I was told to hold them until she gave me the instruction to file."
Richard opened the folder.
It took him a moment to understand what he was reading.
They were financial documents.
Specifically, they were transfer authorizations — pre-signed, pre-dated, requiring only one additional signature to move a significant portion of a discretionary family trust into an account he didn't recognize.
He looked up.
"She was going to access Sophie's trust," Cara said quietly.
"The one Catherine set up.
Vanessa found out about it eight months ago.
She's been working toward this since before she moved in."
The room was very still.
"She told me it was just a precaution," Cara continued.
"In case the relationship ended badly.
She said she deserved compensation for what she'd given up to be here." A pause.
"She said Sophie would never even notice."
Richard closed the folder.
"Is there anything else in that drawer?"
Cara reached in again.
A phone.
An old one — not her current model.
"She asked me to hold this for her.
I don't know the passcode.
But I know she used it to communicate with someone she didn't want traced to her main number."
Richard picked up the phone.
"You're going to write down everything you just told me," he said.
"Every detail.
Dates, instructions, conversations.
My lawyer will be here at nine.
You'll give your statement to him directly."
Cara nodded.
Her eyes were wet, but she didn't cry.
"Mr.
Sterling." Her voice was very small.
"Is Sophie going to be all right?"
Richard stood and picked up the folder and the phone.
"She will be," he said.
"From now on."
He walked out of the office and into the corridor.
His lawyer, Daniel Marsh, was already in the entrance hall, coat still on, briefcase in hand.
Richard handed him the folder without a word.
Daniel opened it.
Read the first page.
Looked up.
"How long has she been in the house?"
"Eight months."
Daniel looked back at the documents.
"Richard.
These are very close to executable.
If she'd gotten your signature on anything in the last few weeks —"
"I know."
"Did she try?"
Richard thought about the dinner three weeks ago.
The document Vanessa had slid across the table, telling him it was a household management authorization.
He had been tired.
He had reached for the pen.
Sophie had knocked over her water glass at exactly that moment.
He had gotten up to help her.
He had never gone back to sign it.
"She tried," he said.
"She didn't get it."
Daniel closed the folder.
"I'll need to speak with your financial team this morning.
And I want to see the security footage before I do anything else."
"Marcus will take you to the server room."
Daniel nodded and turned toward the hallway.
Then he stopped.
"Where is she now?"
"East guest room."
"Has she tried to leave?"
Richard looked toward the east wing.
May you like
"Not yet," he said.
But they both knew that wouldn't last much longer.
