Chapter 8 - Richard's Malicious Scheme
While Grace remained under strict medical supervision and heavy security at St. Jude’s, Annie and I returned to the Whitmore estate with Arthur. The court hearing to finalize the corporate injunction was set for Monday morning—three days away.
Those three days were meant to be peaceful, but Richard Whitmore was not a man who went down without trying to burn the house down with him.
On Saturday afternoon, Arthur was called away to a mandatory deposition with federal prosecutors downtown. He left Annie and me under the strict care of Mrs. Higgins and two private security guards posted at the estate’s main gates.
"I will be back by five o'clock," Arthur told me, placing a hand on my shoulder before getting into his car. "Stay inside the house, Caleb. Do not open the gate for anyone."
"I promise, Mr. Arthur," I said.
For the first few hours, everything was quiet. Mrs. Higgins baked fresh cinnamon rolls, and Annie helped her mix the icing in the grand kitchen. I sat in the library, marveling at the thousands of books lining the walls.
Around three o'clock, the doorbell chimed.
Mrs. Higgins wiped her hands on her apron and walked to the front foyer, checking the security monitor. "That's strange. It's a courier delivery service with a certified legal package for Mr. Whitmore."
She buzzed the delivery driver through the outer gate and stepped out onto the porch to sign for the envelope.
What none of us realized was that the delivery van was a distraction.
While Mrs. Higgins was distracted at the front door, a side entrance near the garden conservatory was quietly clicked open.
Annie, who was carrying a plate of cinnamon rolls toward the library, suddenly froze in the hallway. She peered around the corner into Arthur’s master study and saw a man in a dark trench coat frantically rummaging through Arthur’s desk drawers.
It was Richard.
Annie dropped her plate, the ceramic shattering against the hardwood floor.
Richard spun around, his eyes wild and bloodshot. When he saw Annie standing there, a cruel, malicious sneer twisted across his face.
"Well, well," Richard hissed, stepping out of the study. "Look who we have here."
I heard the crash of the plate from the library and came running down the hall. The moment I saw Richard standing over my little sister, my blood boiled.
"Get away from her!" I screamed, grabbing an antique brass umbrella stand from the corner and holding it like a bat.
Richard didn't look afraid; he looked like a madman who had lost all touch with reality. In his hand, he held a black leather briefcase filled with stolen documents from Arthur’s safe. But more disturbingly, in his other hand, he held an antique gold pocket watch encrusted with rubies—one of Arthur’s most prized family heirlooms.
"You little street rats think you can steal my inheritance?" Richard snarled, his voice trembling with manic rage. "You think my uncle can just give away my company to a bunch of beggars?"
"That company belonged to our dad!" I shouted, stepping between him and Annie. "You're a thief, just like your father!"
Richard’s face contorted with fury. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a stack of hundred-dollar bills, and threw them onto the floor around my feet, along with the ruby pocket watch.
"Let’s see what the police think when they find Arthur’s heirloom watch and five thousand dollars in cash inside your backpack, you little brat," Richard laughed wickedly. "My uncle might be sentimental, but when the media reports that his new charity cases robbed his estate blind, even his expensive lawyers won't be able to protect you from juvenile prison."
He reached out with his heavy hand to grab my collar, clearly intending to plant the stolen watch directly into my coat pocket.
"Don't touch my brother!" Annie screamed.
Annie charged forward and bit Richard’s hand with all the strength an eight-year-old girl could muster.
"Ahhh! You little monster!" Richard howled in pain, recoiling and shaking his bleeding hand.
I didn't hesitate. I swung the brass umbrella stand with everything I had, slamming it directly against Richard’s shins.
Richard let out a roar of pain, stumbling backward and crashing hard into a glass display cabinet. Crystal vases shattered across the floor in an explosive roar of noise.
"Security! Help!" Mrs. Higgins screamed, rushing into the hallway from the front foyer.
Heavy footsteps pounded up the exterior steps as the two armed guards rushed through the front doors, guns drawn.
"Freeze! Step away from the children! On the ground now!" the guards shouted, aiming directly at Richard.
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Richard, bleeding from his hand and limping heavily, looked around in sheer terror. He realized he was trapped. The stolen documents were scattered across the floor, the broken glass surrounded him, and the red laser sights of two security weapons were centered squarely on his chest.
Slowly, Richard raised his trembling hands into the air, his face pale as a sheet.
