Chapter 7 - The Master Plan
Vanessa snapped her fingers, and two massive private security guards stepped into the living room.
She had clearly hired them long before today's events, anticipating this exact takeover.
"Escort this crazy old woman and her maid off my property immediately," Vanessa ordered the guards.
"You will not get away with stealing my life's work," I warned her, refusing to back down.
The guards grabbed my arms roughly and dragged me out the front door, throwing me onto the gravel driveway.
Rosa ran out right behind me, helping me to my feet in the cold evening air.
The heavy oak doors slammed shut, locking us out of the home I had lived in for forty years.
I stood in the driveway, my faded housekeeper uniform now stained with actual dirt.
"What do we do now, Mrs. Whitmore?" Rosa asked, tears welling up in her eyes.
I took a deep breath, letting the anger fuel my focus instead of blinding me.
"Vanessa made one critical mistake in her hostile takeover," I told Rosa softly.
I explained that the Whitmore Foundation was established with an unbreakable morality clause written in the original charter.
If any acting director was proven to have committed a felony, control instantly reverted back to the founding family.
"We need to get the original charter document to prove the clause exists," I explained.
"But the charter is locked inside the floor safe in the master study, and the house is surrounded by her guards," Rosa pointed out.
I smiled, a fierce determination replacing my initial shock.
"My late husband was a very paranoid man, Rosa, and he built this house during the Cold War."
I led her around the perimeter of the sprawling estate, staying hidden in the dense treeline.
We reached an old, overgrown stone greenhouse that hadn't been used in decades.
I pushed aside a heavy wall of dead ivy, revealing a rusted iron grate set into the floor.
"There is a maintenance tunnel down here that leads directly up into the walls of the master study," I whispered.
We pulled the heavy grate open and climbed down the rusty ladder into the damp, dark tunnel.
We crawled for what felt like hours through the dust and spiderwebs, using the dim light of Rosa's cell phone to guide us.
Finally, we reached the narrow wooden staircase that led up into the hidden wall panels of the study.
I pushed a hidden latch, and the oak bookcase swung open silently.
We stepped into the dark study, but I immediately realized something was horribly wrong.
The heavy iron floor safe was already wide open, and it was completely empty.
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Suddenly, a desk lamp clicked on, casting a harsh yellow light across the room.
Sitting in my husband's leather chair, holding the original charter document, was Daniel.
