Chapter 5 - The Confrontation
Grace stood her ground, her silhouette framed by the grand window behind her. She did not step back. She did not flinch at the sight of the heavy brass poker in Frank’s hand.
“She’s downstairs with Robert and Caleb, Frank,” Grace lied, her voice dropping into a smooth, icy register. “They’re loading the cars. We’re all driving into town to meet with the District Attorney.”
Frank let out a soft, amused laugh, shaking his head as he stepped further into the bedroom. The moonlight caught the silver in his hair and the hard, callous glint in his eyes.
“Grace, Grace, Grace,” Frank sighed, tapping the iron tip of the poker lightly against the hardwood floor. Tap. Tap. Tap. “You were always such a wonderful hostess. Always keeping everything neat, pristine, and presentable. But you’re a terrible liar.”
“Am I?” Grace challenged, holding his gaze.
“Robert’s car hasn't moved from the driveway,” Frank said, taking another step forward. “And Caleb is currently locked in the wine cellar beneath the library. I locked him in myself two minutes ago.”
Inside the armoire, Katherine held her breath, her hand clutched over her mouth to stop herself from crying out.
Grace felt a cold dagger of fear pierce her heart at the mention of her son, but she kept her face completely impassive.
“You think you can do this here, Frank?” Grace asked softly. “In Oakhaven? This house has belonged to the Monroe family for three generations. Your father lived here. Your grandfather built the west wing. You’re going to stain this floor with your family’s blood?”
“My father left this estate entirely to Robert!” Frank snapped, his calm demeanor suddenly shattering, revealing a deep, bitter pool of resentment underneath. “Robert got the land! Robert got the bank directorships! Robert got the glorious reputation! What did I get, Grace? I got the scraps! I got the struggling supply businesses! I got the debts!”
“You got a clean name, Frank!” Grace countered sharply. “And you threw it away for cheap concrete and dirty government contracts!”
Frank’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Beatrice Caldwell was going to destroy everything I built. She was twenty-four years old, fresh out of college, carrying a clipboard, telling me she was going to shut down my bridge project! Do you have any idea how much money I would have lost if the state halted that pour?”
“She was a human being, Frank!” Grace yelled, her composure finally cracking. “She was Caleb’s fiancée! He loved her! He spent three years living in a hell of grief and betrayal because of what you did!”
“She was an obstacle!” Frank spat, stepping closer, raising the heavy poker slightly. “And Katherine Vance was supposed to be my clean exit. I paid her firm to handle the offshore paper trail. I made sure her name was on the escrow transfer so that if anyone ever dug up Beatrice’s disappearance, the trail would lead straight to Katherine!”
From inside the wardrobe, Katherine closed her eyes, tears streaming silently down her face. The truth was fully exposed now. She hadn't just been a mediator—she had been targeted by Frank from the very beginning to be his ultimate scapegoat.
“And what now, Frank?” Grace asked, her voice dropping back into a calm, deadly whisper. “Are you going to kill all of us? Your brother? Your nephew? Your sister-in-law? How are you going to explain four dead bodies in Oakhaven Springs on a wedding night?”
Frank smiled—a cold, frantic, unhinged smile.
“An unfortunate family tragedy,” Frank whispered. “A bitter quarrel between the groom and his new bride over a past romance. A fire started by an overturned lamp in the library. By the time the volunteer fire department from town gets out here through the back roads, Oakhaven will be nothing but ash.”
He raised the iron poker high above his head, stepping directly toward Grace.
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“Where is Katherine, Grace?” Frank demanded. “Tell me where she is, or I’ll start with you.”
Before Grace could answer, the heavy mirrored door of the armoire burst open with a deafening crash.
