Chapter 6 - The Lake House Secret
Z
The rain had turned into a steady, freezing drizzle by the time I reached my parents' lake house in Upstate New York—a secluded two-story timber property nestled on the edge of Lake Hopatcong. This was where Madison and I had spent our childhood summers, where our family had celebrated holidays, where memories of a happier, simpler life were supposed to live.
Now, it was a crime scene of secrets.
I pulled my car onto the gravel driveway, keeping the headlights off. The house was completely dark except for a single soft glow emanating from the second-floor master bedroom window.
Madison’s car was parked near the garage—a sleek red sports car bought with money stolen from my company.
I retrieved a spare key from beneath a decorative stone near the porch, unlocked the front door, and stepped inside. The house smelled of damp wood, expensive perfume, and stale wine.
I crept quietly up the carpeted staircase, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. Every creak of the floorboards felt like a siren in the silent house. When I reached the top of the stairs, I saw the bedroom door was standing slightly ajar.
Inside, Madison was sitting on the edge of a large king-sized bed, surrounded by open suitcases. A silver laptop sat on the nightstand, its screen casting a blue glare across her pale, frantic face. She was on speakerphone, her voice hushed and agitated.
"I don't care about Ethan anymore, Marcus!" Madison was yelling into the phone. "He’s locked up! He failed! I’m the one who has the audio files! I’m the one who has the leverage over my father and Claire! I want two million dollars deposited into my Swiss account by midnight, or I take these files directly to the press and ruin everyone!"
I pushed the door open. The wood creaked loudly.
Madison gasped, spinning around, her hand instantly flying to her chest. She slammed the laptop lid shut.
"Claire!" she breathed, her eyes widening in horror. "How... how did you get in here?"
"Dad’s spare key," I said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind me. "I see you've already moved on from Ethan. From federal inmate to blackmailer in less than twenty-four hours. That has to be a personal record, even for you."
Madison’s posture hardened. She stood up, crossing her arms over her chest, trying to project strength, but I could see her hands shaking. "Get out of here, Claire. This is Mom and Dad's house. You have no right to be here."
"Ethan told me about the laptop," I said, ignoring her demand and stepping closer to the nightstand. "He told me about the 2018 audio recordings. The offshore gambling syndicate money. Dad's laundering."
Madison let out a sharp, hysterical laugh. "Then you know you're finished, big sister. You thought you could play the high and mighty CEO, sending your husband and sister to jail while you kept your hands clean. But Dad’s entire legacy is built on dirty money! If I press play on these files, the feds will seize everything. The house, the company, the family name. Everything grandmother built will be erased!"
"Why, Madison?" I asked, looking at my younger sister—the girl I had bought clothes for, paid off college debts for, defended from our father's harsh expectations for years. "Why would you destroy our family like this? What did I ever do to you?"
"What did you do?" Madison screamed, her face contorting with years of accumulated venom and jealousy. "You existed, Claire! You were always the brilliant one! The golden daughter! 'Look at Claire, she got an A-plus!' 'Look at Claire, she’s taking over the family business!' Mom and Dad looked at you like you were a god, and they looked at me like I was a mistake! A pretty, useless decoration!"
"I worked eighty hours a week to keep this family afloat!" I yelled back, tears finally stinging my eyes. "I gave up my youth, my peace of mind, my own happiness to build something that could protect all of us!"
"I didn't want your protection!" Madison sobbed, stepping right up to me, her breath smelling of cheap tequila. "I wanted your life! I wanted Ethan to look at me the way he looked at you! I wanted the power you had! And when Ethan came to me complaining about how cold and distant you were, I realized how easy it was to take him from you. He didn't love you, Claire. He loved the company. And I offered him a way to have both!"
She reached for the silver laptop on the nightstand, but I moved faster.
I grabbed the laptop by its corner. Madison lunged forward, her long acrylic nails scratching across my forearm, drawing thin lines of blood.
"Give it to me!" she screamed, clawing at my wrists. "That laptop is my ticket out of this country! Give it back!"
We struggled violently in the dim bedroom, knocking over a lamp that crashed onto the hardwood floor, plunging the room into shadows. Madison fought with a wild, feral desperation, biting and scratching, but I held on with everything I had.
I shoved her back with all my weight. Madison stumbled over an open suitcase and fell hard against the foot of the bed, gasping for breath.
I pulled the silver laptop close to my chest, turned around, and bolted down the stairs.
"Claire! Stop!" Madison shrieked behind me, her footsteps thundering down the corridor.
I reached the front door, threw it open, and ran into the freezing rain toward my sedan. Behind me, Madison burst out onto the porch, her white trench coat soaked with rain, her hair wildly matted across her face.
"You can't save him, Claire!" she screamed into the storm, her voice echoing over the roaring lake. "You can't save Dad! Marcus Thorne already has the physical contract! You're going to lose everything anyway!"
I slammed my car door shut, locked the doors, and jammed the silver laptop onto the passenger seat. My heart was hammering wildly in my throat, my arm stinging where her nails had torn my skin.
I turned the ignition, flipped on the high beams, and slammed my foot on the accelerator, tearing down the gravel driveway and leaving my sister screaming in the cold dark rain.
I had the laptop. But as I sped down the winding mountain road toward Manhattan, I looked at the dark screen sitting next to me.
May you like
I had saved my father from Madison's immediate blackmail, but I now possessed evidence of a federal crime that could send my own father to prison for the rest of his life.
And five o'clock—Marcus Thorne’s deadline—was less than ten hours away.
