Chapter 6: Eleanor Fights Back
Eleanor's attorney was a man named Grayson Holt — silver-haired, expensive, and accustomed to making problems disappear before they became problems.
He had been working for the Vance family for twenty-two years.
He had made things disappear before.
He pulled Eleanor into the study at half past nine and closed the door.
"Tell me everything," he said.
"And tell me the truth, because I cannot help you if I am surprised later."
Eleanor sat down.
For the first time since the sirens had arrived, she looked tired.
"It was an accident," she said.
Grayson looked at her.
"Eleanor."
"She was reaching over the railing.
She lost her balance.
I may have — I may have reached out to stop her and misjudged."
"There are three eyewitness accounts that say otherwise."
"Staff accounts."
"One of them is Arthur."
Eleanor said nothing.
"There is also the question," Grayson said carefully, "of the letters."
Eleanor's eyes moved to the filing cabinet in the corner.
The second drawer.
She had been so careful.
"Daniel found them," Grayson said.
"He has already told the officers.
That is a separate matter from today, but it establishes a pattern of behavior that a prosecutor will find very useful." He set his briefcase on the desk.
"I need you to understand the position you are in.
This is not something I can make go away with a phone call."
"Then what can you do?"
"I can advise you to stop speaking to the police without me present.
I can advise you to make no contact with Sarah, Daniel, or any member of the staff.
And I can tell you that your best outcome here — your best outcome — involves cooperation and a very sincere expression of remorse."
Eleanor stood up.
"I will not apologize to that girl," she said.
"She came into this family with nothing.
She has manipulated my son from the beginning.
Everything I did, I did to protect him."
"You pushed a pregnant woman off a landing," Grayson said.
Flat.
No softness in it at all.
"It was—"
"Eleanor." He closed his briefcase.
"I have protected this family for twenty-two years.
I am telling you, as clearly as I know how, that there is footage."
The room went very still.
"The security camera," he said.
"Above the archway.
The officer mentioned it during the statement process.
They have already submitted a request for the server access."
Eleanor's face did not move.
But her hand, resting on the edge of the desk, pressed down until her knuckles went white.
"You told me that system was on a private server," Grayson said.
"It is."
"Then how do they know about it?"
Eleanor thought of Arthur.
Of the way he had looked up at her from the foyer floor.
Of forty years of quiet, faithful, invisible service.
"I want you to offer the girl a settlement," Eleanor said.
"Tonight.
Before this goes any further.
Whatever she wants.
The house in Connecticut, a trust for the child, a monthly—"
"It is too late for that," Grayson said.
"The moment Arthur dialed 911, this stopped being a family matter."
He picked up his briefcase and walked to the door.
"I'll be here tomorrow morning," he said.
"Do not speak to anyone tonight."
He left.
Eleanor stood alone in her late husband's study, surrounded by forty years of careful, controlled, perfectly managed power.
May you like
The second drawer of the filing cabinet was still closed.
It didn't matter anymore.
