Chapter 131
Chapter 131:
The rhythmic sound was the only thing in the room besides Petunia’s jagged breathing.
“Who gave you the drugs?” Alistair asked. His voice was conversational, polite even.
Petunia stammered, her eyes darting to Arthur for help. “I… I don’t know what you mean! It was just a diffuser! Essential oils p>
Alistair sighed. He looked disappointed.
“Wrong answer,” he said.
He signaled to the guard standing by the basement door. The guard nodded and dragged the whimpering Timothy toward the stairs. A moment later, the sound of a heavy door slamming shut echoed from the depths of the house, followed by a muffled, terrified cry.
Petunia flinched as if she had been slapped.
“I’ll ask one more time,” Alistair said, watching the flame dance. “Who provided the compound? And who paid for it p>
The storm outside had turned the world into a blurred watercolor of grey and black, but inside the Sterling Manor, everything was cast in sharp, unforgiving high-definition. Headlights swept across the rain-slicked driveway, cutting through the gloom. Brakes screeched, a sound of mechanical panic. Car doors slammed.
It was Arthur’s lawyer. But Arthur himself was nowhere near the front door to greet him.
Inside the living room, Arthur tried to stand, his face flushed with a mixture of exertion and terror, but a glare from Alistair pinned him back into the armchair. He looked up at the man who had turned his home into a prison.
Alistair didn’t stand up. He gestured casually to the coffee table.
On the polished wood lay a smartphone. It was Timothy’s. The screen was cracked, spiderwebbed from where it had likely fallen during the assault.
“Sit, Arthur,” Alistair said, though Arthur was already collapsed in the chair. “And stay put this time p>
Arthur looked at Petunia. She was huddled in the corner of the sofa, weeping silently, her mascara running in black streaks down her face. She looked aged, her vanity stripped away by fear.
𝖩𝗼𝗂𝗻 𝘁𝗁𝖾 с𝗈𝗆𝘮u𝗇𝘪ty 𝗮𝘵 𝗯e𝘭ո𝗈𝘷𝘦𝘭ѕ.𝗰𝘰𝘮
“What is this?” Arthur whispered. “Where is Skye p>
“Safe,” Alistair said. “Unlike your conscience p>
He leaned forward. He grabbed Timothy’s phone and pressed the fingerprint sensor against the thumb of the unconscious man the guard had briefly dragged up from the basement. The phone unlocked instantly.
Alistair tapped the screen. A voice recording began to play. It was grainy, recorded in a car, judging by the background noise.
“It has to be tonight, Tim,” Petunia’s voice, tinny and sharp. “Arthur is getting cold feet. He keeps talking about family loyalty. If we don’t get her signature on the trust transfer before the bail hearing, Victor is done. Just use the dose. Make sure she’s out. You can… have your fun after. Just get the signature first p>
The recording ended.
The silence that followed was heavier than the storm.
Arthur stared at the phone. His mouth opened, then closed. He looked at Petunia. He looked at her as if he had never seen her before in his thirty years of marriage.