Chapter 9
1781words
The air was permeated with expensive cigars, cologne, and a kind of silent, suffocating tension.
Sebastian Deville sat at the head of the long table. Despite the paleness still lingering on his face from his injuries, his back was straight and his eyes as sharp as a hawk ready to strike, completely dispelling the weakness he had shown on his sickbed a month ago.
He wore a perfectly tailored dark suit, every detail conveying undisputable authority and his determination to settle everything today.
Elsie Lane sat slightly behind him, dressed in a simple black suit with a skirt, her expression calm but her gaze exceptionally resolute.
She was no longer "The Rose Lady" hiding in the gallery of Crescent Harbor, but a key witness about to face the storm that would determine their fate.
Her presence alone was enough to make several family elders exchange uncertain glances, and caused Aunt Marjorie, who sat at the other end of the long table with her customary gentle smile, to reveal a fleeting, barely perceptible tremor in the depths of her eyes.
The meeting proceeded in an orderly manner, reviewing the tedious annual financial reports and investment plans.
The atmosphere seemed calm, but strong undercurrents flowed beneath, like the dead silence before a storm.
Sebastian didn't say much, but each sentence was precise and powerful, firmly controlling the rhythm of the meeting.
Marjorie spoke occasionally, her tone unhurried, yet her content often concealed barbs, attempting to steer topics in directions favorable to her son, but each time Sebastian subtly neutralized or redirected them.
When the clock pointed to a pre-calculated moment, Sebastian raised his hand, interrupting the lengthy discussion about an overseas real estate project.
The entire conference room instantly fell silent, all eyes focused on him, sensing an unusual atmosphere.
"Before deciding the future investment direction of the family," Sebastian's voice was clear and calm, devoid of emotion yet possessing a power that penetrated the heart, "we must first settle accounts with the past and correct an old case concerning the family's reputation and basic justice." His gaze, like cold arrows, shot directly at Marjorie. "Regarding the truth about the death of my fiancée, Emily Lawrence, seven years ago."
The smile on Marjorie's face remained perfect, except for a momentary stiffening of the curve at the corner of her mouth.
"Sebastian, my dear child," her voice carried the tolerance unique to elders and a touch of just-right reproach, "that accident was heartbreaking, but authoritative conclusions have long been drawn. Bringing up old matters at such an important business meeting seems rather inappropriate and only adds to the sorrow." She attempted to shut down the topic by suggesting it was emotionally and contextually unsuitable.
"Timely?" Sebastian's voice suddenly raised, carrying an icy anger. "If that so-called 'conclusion' is built on murder and lies, then exposing it at any time is most timely!" He no longer looked at her, his gaze sweeping across every director present, finally landing on Elsie beside him. "Today, we have invited a witness who understands the inside story best. She will tell us what kind of fear and betrayal Emily experienced in the final moments of her life."
Elsie slowly stood up under everyone's gaze.
She could feel Marjorie's gaze like poisoned ice needles, intensely piercing her, but she took a deep breath, suppressed all her nervousness, and walked with steady steps to the front of the conference room.
She opened the tablet she carried with her and projected a high-definition painting onto the massive screen—it was that unfinished final work from the sealed studio, filled with despair and struggle. The distorted composition, oppressive color palette, the falling human figure in the center, and the background's thorn-like lines that twisted like a curse, caused many in attendance to gasp. It formed a terrifying contrast to the sunny and radiant Emily they remembered.
"This was created by Emily Lawrence shortly before her death." Elsie's voice was calm yet carried an undeniable force as she pointed to the painting. "This is not a shift in artistic style, but rather a reflection of her inner self being devoured by tremendous fear and despair." She skillfully enlarged the lower right corner of the image, where the blurry, thorny circular emblem appeared clearly before everyone. "This emblem does not belong to the Deville Family. It belongs to a secret organization that operates in Europe's shadows, specializing in handling certain families' dirty business that they find 'inconvenient' to address themselves."
A wave of suppressed discussions arose in the conference room. Marjorie picked up her teacup, taking a gentle sip. The gesture appeared elegant, but when she set the cup down, there was a very faint clicking sound as the bottom of the cup met the saucer.
Elsie pressed forward step by step, presenting her chain of evidence in sequence: a close-up photo of the anonymous warning letter, with the heraldic watermark on the paper identical to the one in the painting; a correlation chart linking Dr. Hammond's "accidental" death timeline with records of anonymous wire transfers from Switzerland; the notarized testimony from the old sea captain, pointing to the indirect connection between the cargo ship with special markings and Marjorie's overseas assets. Each piece of evidence was like a heavy stone thrown into still water, creating increasingly larger ripples.
Marjorie's face gradually darkened, but she still forced herself to remain calm.
"Absurd!" she interrupted harshly, trying to regain control of the conversation. "Based on a gloomy painting, a few anonymous letters of unknown origin, and the drunken words of an old sailor, you want to weave lies to slander me? Sebastian, you've been deceived by this woman of unknown background! Who is she? What right does she have to stand in the Deville Family's board meeting and talk nonsense?" Her attack was aimed directly at Elsie, attempting to undermine her credibility by questioning her identity.
"Her name is Elsie Lane," Sebastian's voice was decisive, echoing throughout the conference room. "She is Emily Lawrence's twin sister. She has more right than anyone else in this world to stand here and seek justice for her murdered sister!"
As the truth was revealed, the meeting room erupted in commotion.
Marjorie's pupils suddenly contracted, and the color drained from her face. She clearly hadn't anticipated that Elsie's true identity had already been exposed, which completely disrupted her predetermined defense strategy.
"Even... even so!" Marjorie's voice became shrill with panic as she tried to compose herself, making one last desperate attempt. "These so-called pieces of evidence are all circumstantial and could have been fabricated! Who can prove that painting was really done by Emily? Who can prove that letter wasn't written by her for some purpose of her own? Hammond's death was an accident, there's an official investigation report! This is all a conspiracy! It's a trap set by Sebastian to eliminate opposition and seize complete control!" She began to create confusion deliberately, attempting to muddy the waters and shift the focus to power struggles.
Just as the atmosphere reached an impasse, with Marjorie struggling desperately and some directors showing signs of hesitation, there was a knock at the conference room door.
Sebastian's most trusted assistant Calvin, who had been thoroughly vetted and confirmed innocent, led in a plainly dressed man who appeared nervous but had determined eyes.
The moment she saw this man appear, Marjorie's forced composure completely collapsed!
Her eyes widened in terror, her lips trembled uncontrollably, and her body nearly slid off the chair—this man was one of the waiters responsible for beverage service at the balcony dinner party where Emily had "accidentally" fallen to her death! Everyone had assumed he had been "taken care of" without a trace.
"This gentleman," Sebastian calmly introduced, his voice carrying the weight of final judgment, "can tell everyone what he witnessed with his own eyes that night."
The waiter took a deep breath, facing the gazes of many important figures. Although nervous, his speech was clear and resounding: "That night... I was responsible for the terrace area. I saw with my own eyes that Lady Marjorie... when the guests were talking and no one was paying attention, she quietly approached Miss Emily who was standing at the edge of the balcony... They seemed to have a brief, intense argument, and then... then Lady Marjorie suddenly reached out and violently pushed Miss Emily!" He pointed at Marjorie, whose face had turned ashen, his voice trembling with anger and excitement. "Afterward, she threatened me, gave me a large sum of hush money to disappear forever, or else my family and I would lose our lives. I was terrified and had to go into hiding... It was Mr. Deville's people who found me and secretly protected me all these years."
The decisive blow!
The evidence and witnesses were all present. The motive, collusion with dark organizations to silence witnesses, and even the direct process of the crime itself were all exposed nakedly and irrefutably in broad daylight.
Marjorie Deville collapsed completely into the expensive chair, the elegance, nobility, and composure vanishing from her face, leaving only the ashen pallor, grimace, and undisguisable fear of someone whose disguise had been thoroughly torn away.
She opened and closed her mouth, wanting to say something, but could only emit hoarse, meaningless syllables, like a fish gasping for air.
Any defense appeared pale and laughable in the face of iron-clad facts.
Sebastian slowly rose to his feet, looking down at his once-kind but now abhorrent aunt, his voice as cold as polar ice, pronouncing the final judgment: "Marjorie Deville, for your selfish desires, you cruelly murdered Emily Lawrence, framed the innocent, and eroded the foundation of our family. Your actions are unforgivable, your intentions condemnable! From this moment on, the Deville Family severs all ties with you! You shall bear the rightful judgment of both law and morality for your crimes!"
Elsie stood nearby, watching as the true culprit who caused her sister's death was finally brought to justice. There was no wild joy in her heart, only a profound calm and relief, like the stillness after a violent storm.
Seven years of endurance, countless days and nights of fear and struggle, in this moment, finally reached a complete resolution. The injustice suffered by her sister Emily was at last washed clean.
This war, without gunpowder yet fraught with extreme danger, ended with the triumph of justice.
The malignant tumor within the Deville Family was thoroughly removed, and Elsie Lane also completed her seven-year-long mission, emerging from the shadows to personally win for her sister the delayed but complete justice.
