Chapter 6 - The Traitor's Desk
Clara stopped breathing as the glowing screen went dark again.
Frank was the traitor.
The man who had saved her in the alley and brokered her marriage was actively trying to murder his best friend.
She could not tell Leo right now.
Leo was still too weak, and Frank controlled all the armed guards in the room.
Clara quietly removed the needle from her own arm and bandaged the puncture mark.
"I need to check on Evan," Clara announced, standing up quickly.
"I'll have two men escort you," Frank said smoothly, hiding his phone.
"I know the way," Clara insisted, pushing past him before he could argue.
Instead of going to Evan's room, Clara slipped into the shadows of the mansion's massive library.
She knew Frank's private office was located just behind the rare book collection.
She waited until the hallway patrol passed by, then picked the simple lock on Frank's mahogany door using a hairpin.
She slipped inside and closed the door without making a sound.
The office was dark, smelling faintly of expensive cigars and leather.
She booted up his laptop, praying he had left it unlocked in the chaos of the blackout.
It required a password.
She frantically searched the desk drawers for a physical ledger or a hidden safe.
Underneath a false bottom in the lowest drawer, she found a thick manila folder.
It was not a ledger about Leo's assassination.
It was a medical file with Evan's name printed boldly on the tab.
Clara opened it, using the moonlight filtering through the window to read the documents.
There were bank transfers, hospital records, and pharmaceutical patents.
She read the clinical trial reports with growing horror.
Evan's heart condition had not been a tragic genetic defect.
It was the direct result of a highly illegal, experimental drug manufactured by a shell company.
And the sole owner of that shell company was Frank Delaney.
Frank had purposely poisoned innocent teenagers to test a profitable new narcotic.
A cold, terrifying click echoed through the dark office.
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"You really shouldn't snoop in other people's desks, Clara," Frank whispered from the doorway.
He stepped into the room, pointing a silver revolver directly at her head.
