Chapter 4 - The Poison in the Family Tree
Upstairs in the grand salon, Eleanor Whitmore was not accustomed to being defied.
Her mahogany-veneered antique desk was littered with estate papers, trust fund disbursements, and social calendar RSVPs. Standing across from her was her longtime confidante and legal advisor, Julian Vance—a man whose face always looked like it had been carved from cold lard and bad intentions.
“He stopped the dismissal, Eleanor,” Julian said, adjusting his tortoiseshell glasses. “The boy walked into my drawing room like an absolute dictator and told me to leave the girl alone.”
Eleanor’s lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. She tapped a heavy silver letter opener against the blotter. “Alexander is letting sentimentality cloud his judgment. That little nobody is a liability. She’s too independent. She doesn't defer to the family structure. And worse...” Eleanor paused, her eyes narrowing into cold slits. “She’s getting too close to the children. If Alexander starts looking at her as an equal, the entire succession line for the Whitmore Trust becomes complicated.”
“The bracelet framing didn't work,” Julian noted dryly. “What’s our next play?”
“We don't need a play,” Eleanor said, standing up and walking toward the tall mirror that overlooked the gardens. “We need a scalpel. If Alexander insists on keeping her, we expose her professional incompetence. We prove that her unauthorized ‘physical therapy’ methods endangered Iris’s medical condition. We get a signed affidavit from Dr. Sterling stating that her amateur interventions caused regression.”
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Julian raised an eyebrow. “Does Dr. Sterling know she actually is walking?”
Eleanor turned around, a chilling smile touching her lips. “Dr. Sterling knows whatever we pay him to know. In our world, Julian, truth is just a commodity with a fluctuating price.”
