Chapter Five

The air in the dining room was thick with tension, the weight of the ongoing investigation pressing down on everyone like a vice. Harris's piercing gaze roamed the room, settling momentarily on each family member as if daring them to betray themselves. August sat stiffly in his chair, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. His eyes darted to Vanessa, who stood quietly by the far wall, her expression composed but her blue eyes scanning the scene with the precision of someone used to reading people.

Harris's voice broke the silence, his tone firm. "Mrs. Westwood, I need to circle back to something you mentioned earlier."

Aurora stiffened, her fingers twitching against the fabric of her dress. "What is it now?" she asked, her tone clipped, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her nerves.

"You said earlier that you were on the verge of filing for divorce." Harris paused, his gaze narrowing. "What was the nature of your conversation with Mr. Westwood regarding this matter?"

Aurora's lips pressed into a thin line. "We discussed it briefly," she replied after a moment. "Jonathan... he wasn't happy about it, obviously. But that's all it was-a discussion."

"And the prenup?" Harris leaned forward slightly, his notebook in hand. "He reminded you that you wouldn't be entitled to anything, didn't he?"

Aurora's face turned pale, and she visibly flinched. "That's irrelevant," she snapped. "Yes, he mentioned the prenup. But I didn't care about the money. I just wanted-" She stopped abruptly, her voice faltering.

"Just wanted what?" Harris pressed.

Aurora shook her head, refusing to answer. Harris didn't push further, but the silence that followed was louder than any accusation.

Victor, who had been sitting silently, shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His hazel eyes flicked toward Aurora, then away, as if her predicament somehow heightened his own discomfort. Rose sat cross-legged on a sofa, her arms wrapped around herself protectively, her gaze distant.

Harris noticed the movement. His sharp eyes turned to Victor. "And you, Mr. Westwood. Let's talk about your relationship with your father."

Victor straightened slightly, his jaw tightening. "What about it?"

"From what I've been told, it was... strained," Harris said, his tone neutral but probing.

Victor let out a dry laugh. "Strained? That's putting it lightly." He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. "Jonathan never approved of anything I did. Every decision I made, every investment-I was always the failure in his eyes."

"And yet, you lived here," Harris pointed out. "Under his roof, using his money. Why?"

Victor's face flushed. "Because he insisted," he snapped. "He wanted to keep an eye on me. Control me, like he did with everyone else."

"Interesting," Harris murmured, jotting something down in his notebook. "So, if you were so unhappy here, why not leave? Start fresh somewhere else?"

Victor's expression darkened. "That's none of your business."

"It becomes my business," Harris said coolly, "when your father ends up dead."

A tense silence filled the room. August glanced at Victor, noting the way his brother's hands fidgeted against his knees. Something wasn't right.

Harris seemed to notice it too. "Mr. Westwood, where were you last night between 10 p.m. and midnight?"

Victor's eyes narrowed. "In my room, like everyone else."

"That's not what I heard," Harris said, flipping through his notes. "One of the maids reported hearing you arguing with your father in his study around that time."

Victor's jaw clenched, but he remained silent.

"The same maid mentioned hearing your father shout, 'You've had your last chance,'" Harris continued, his voice calm but relentless. "Care to explain what that was about?"

Victor hesitated, his gaze darting toward the study down the hall. "It was just a disagreement," he said finally. "Nothing serious."

"Nothing serious?" Harris repeated, arching a brow. "Then why were you seen locking yourself in the study shortly after?"

Victor's face reddened. "I wasn't locking myself in! I just needed some space to think. Is that a crime now?"

"Depends on what you were thinking about," Harris replied, his tone sharp.

Victor stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "This is ridiculous!" he snapped. "If you think I killed him, just say it!"

"Sit down, Mr. Westwood," Harris said firmly. His calm demeanor only seemed to inflame Victor further, but after a moment, Victor complied, sinking back into his chair with a scowl.

August's mind raced. The study. Victor had locked himself in the study. Why?

Later that evening, when the family was allowed to retreat to their respective rooms, August found Vanessa lingering near the hallway that led to the study.

"Something doesn't add up," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

August nodded, his curiosity piqued. "Victor was hiding something in there," he said. "I'm sure of it."

Vanessa glanced around to ensure they were alone. "Do you think we should look?"

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Let's go."

They slipped into the study, the door creaking slightly as it opened. The room was dimly lit, the faint scent of cigar smoke still lingering in the air.

"Over here," Vanessa said, pointing to the desk. A ledger sat slightly askew on the otherwise immaculate surface.

August picked it up, flipping through its pages. His father's familiar handwriting filled the margins, but certain entries caught his attention-notes about failed investments, reprimands about money, and a name circled several times: Victor.

"Looks like he was planning something," August murmured.

"Or someone," Vanessa added, her voice soft.

As they continued to search, Vanessa moved toward the fireplace. She crouched down, brushing ash aside to reveal a partially burned piece of paper. She held it up to the light, squinting to make out the faded words: "...will... changes to Victor's share..."

August's stomach sank. "He was cutting Victor out," he said, the realization hitting him like a blow.

Vanessa nodded, her expression unreadable. "That's a strong motive," she said quietly.

The sound of footsteps outside the study jolted them both. August quickly returned the ledger to its original position, and Vanessa smoothed her skirt. The door opened, revealing Rose.

"What are you two doing in here?" she asked, her tone accusatory.

"Nothing," August said quickly. "Just... looking for answers."

Rose's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing more, retreating back down the hall.

The next morning, Harris called the family together once more. His expression was grim, his notepad clutched tightly in his hand.

"New evidence has come to light," he began. "It seems Mr. Victor Westwood has not been entirely truthful about his activities the night before his father's death."

Victor's face paled. "What are you talking about?"

"The ash in the fireplace," Harris said. "The partially burned document we recovered-it appears to be a draft of your father's will, indicating plans to cut you out."

Gasps filled the room. Aurora shot Victor a look of shock and suspicion, while Rose openly gaped at him.

Victor stammered, his composure crumbling. "I... I didn't-"

"You lied about being in your room," Harris interrupted. "You argued with your father, then locked yourself in his study. Why?"

Victor opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.

Harris stepped closer. "What were you so desperate to hide, Mr. Westwood?"

The room was silent, the tension palpable. August's gaze flicked to Vanessa, who stood nearby, her blue eyes unreadable but fixed on Victor.

Harris's voice cuts through the silence "You had motive. You had opportunity. So tell me, Victor-what else are you hiding?"

The silence in the room hung heavily, almost suffocating. Victor's face, once flushed with indignation, was now pale, his mouth agape but failing to form any coherent words. Aurora's wide eyes locked onto her son, her once-perfect composure unraveling before everyone's gaze. The other family members watched, their expressions mixed with shock, disbelief, and a hint of concern. The air felt as though it had thickened into something tangible, a noose tightening with every passing second.

Harris stood motionless, his piercing eyes locked on Victor as if he were dissecting him piece by piece. "You had motive. You had opportunity," he repeated, his voice steady and firm. "So tell me, Victor-what else are you hiding?"

Victor's breath quickened as his gaze darted around the room, as if searching for a way out, a lifeline. But there was none. Everyone in the room was watching him now, waiting for an explanation that wasn't coming.

"I didn't-" Victor's voice broke, his words a mixture of frustration and panic. He reached for his collar, loosening the button as if the air had grown too thick to breathe. "I didn't kill him," he finally spat, the words coming out in a rush, desperate to convince everyone, including himself.

Harris, still calm, took a step forward. "Then why the lies, Victor? Why lock yourself in the study? Why hide the evidence?"

Victor shook his head violently, his hands shaking as they balled into fists at his sides. "I didn't do it! I swear to you. I wasn't trying to hide anything. I-I was just upset. You have to understand-my father, he was-" He broke off, the words trailing into the heavy silence. There was a flicker in his eyes, a fleeting moment of vulnerability, before he straightened himself, trying to regain some semblance of control. "You think because I was angry with him that I killed him?"

August could barely stand the tension in the room. His brother's implosion was something he never thought he would witness. Victor had always been the strong one, the one in charge. To see him crumble under the weight of his father's death was jarring, and for a moment, August almost felt a pang of sympathy. Almost. But then, his gaze shifted to Vanessa, standing near the doorway, her blue eyes unreadable, her face as composed as ever. There was something in the way she was watching Victor, a knowing look that unsettled him.

Vanessa had been a steady presence in the family over the past few days. August had grown to rely on her quiet support, but now, with the mounting tension, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her than she was letting on. She had been in the study with him earlier that night. She had seen the papers. She had seen the evidence of Jonathan's intentions to cut Victor out of the will. Was she beginning to piece the puzzle together as well?

For a moment, the room was quiet again, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. It was Aurora who broke the silence this time, her voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and growing panic. "Victor, please tell me this isn't true," she whispered, her eyes wide as she reached toward him, her hands trembling. "I don't care about the money, but we need to know what happened. Please, tell me you're not hiding something."

Victor's expression faltered, the defiance in his eyes dimming slightly. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Harris stepped in, cutting him off.

"I'll be the one asking the questions here," Harris said, his voice steely, unyielding. "But this won't be the end of it. I'll be speaking with the rest of the family soon."

He turned his attention to the others in the room, his sharp gaze sweeping over them as if calculating their every reaction. Aurora, her hands clenched tightly in her lap, flinched under his scrutiny, while Rose, still sitting on the couch, stared at her brother as though seeing him for the first time. The tension in the room was palpable, every person seemingly on the edge of a precipice, ready to fall into a dark chasm of secrets and lies.

August remained silent, though his thoughts were racing. He glanced back at Vanessa, who was now looking directly at him. There was something in her gaze, something that made his chest tighten. He felt the weight of her presence, and yet, he couldn't place the emotion she was projecting. Was it concern? Was it something else?

"I think that's enough for now," Harris finally said, breaking the silence. "But don't think for a second that this is over, Victor. We're only getting started."

Victor, defeated, dropped his gaze to the floor, and without another word, he slumped back into his chair. The detective gave one last, lingering look at the family before turning and exiting the room, his footsteps fading into the distance.

For a few moments, no one spoke. Then, Aurora stood up abruptly, her hands shaking as she wiped at her eyes. "I need some air," she muttered, before turning and walking out of the room, her heels clicking loudly against the marble floors.

Rose stood up next, her face a mask of disbelief and confusion. She didn't look at anyone as she quickly left the room, her footsteps fading away.

Victor remained silent, his face drawn, his shoulders hunched as though carrying a heavy burden. August stared at him, but there was nothing left to say. Nothing but the growing certainty that something far more dangerous was at play here-something that went beyond Victor's anger at their father, beyond the arguments and the frustrations. There was a deep well of resentment, of broken trust, that no one was willing to acknowledge, but it was there, hanging in the air like a dark cloud.

Vanessa was the only one left standing, her posture relaxed as she took a step closer to August. "Do you believe him?" she asked, her voice soft, but there was a glint of something in her eyes. Something calculating.

August hesitated, his mind still spinning from the revelations. "I don't know," he said finally, his voice uncertain. "I want to believe him, but there's too much going on. Too many things we don't know yet."

Vanessa nodded slowly, her lips curling into a faint, enigmatic smile. "And what about you, August? Do you think I'm hiding something?"

The question caught him off guard, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. "What do you mean?"

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze steady. "You've been looking at me like I know something, like I'm involved in all of this somehow."

August opened his mouth to deny it, but the words caught in his throat. He had been looking at her differently-hadn't he? There was something about Vanessa, something that made him wonder if she knew more than she was letting on.

Before he could respond, Vanessa turned away, her soft footsteps echoing in the empty room. "I think we all have our secrets, August," she said quietly over her shoulder. "Even you."

And with that, she was gone.

August stood in the study, the weight of her words lingering in the air long after she had left. He was alone now, but his mind was anything but still. Vanessa's cryptic remark had stirred something in him, something he couldn't ignore. Was it possible that she, too, was hiding something?

He didn't know the answer, but he intended to find out.

The door to the study creaked open, and he turned, his heart leaping into his throat.

But it was only Victor, standing in the doorway, his face unreadable.

"You should be careful, August," Victor said quietly, his eyes dark. "You don't know who you can trust in this house."

And with that, he left.

August was left in the silence again, but this time, it felt different. The shadows in the study seemed to stretch longer, as if the walls were closing in on him, pressing him into a place where secrets, lies, and betrayal were all that remained