Chapter 6: The Mother
Chapter 6: The Mother
Eleanor, Richard's overbearing, elitist mother, had a strict routine. Every Tuesday morning at exactly 7:00 AM, she swam laps at her exclusive, heavily guarded country club before enjoying the steam room.
She was entirely alone in the thick, stifling heat of the steam room when I stepped through the frosted glass door, locking it silently behind me. The thick white fog obscured my face and clothes until I was standing inches from her lounging form. She gasped, clutching her plush towel to her chest, her eyes wide with indignation.
"Arthur! What is the meaning of this? Are you insane? I'll scream for the staff—"
May you like
"Scream, and I'll show the country club board what's in this envelope," I said quietly, tossing a waterproof, sealed folder onto the cedar bench next to her. She hesitated, her indignation faltering. She opened it with trembling, wet hands. Inside were high-definition photographs of her son's offshore bank accounts, cartel associations, and a paper trail linking her own "charity" foundation to the blood money.
"Your son is a dead man walking, Eleanor," I whispered, the hot steam swirling around us like ghosts. "If you or your son ever look for my daughter again, I won't just ruin your country club reputation. I will hand these files directly to the very dangerous people Richard has been stealing from. Tell him." I slipped out the door, vanishing into the fog before she could even draw the breath to scream.
