The City Is Mine

Chapter Six

Evelyn’s voice knifed through the marble foyer. “Benjamin! Get down here. The police are here for a thief!” Her silk robe snapped around her ankles like a flag claiming victory. 

“Marcus chuckled under his breath, too pleased with himself. Amelia stood at Benjamin’s door again, her arms folded, eyes wide, jaw set. Last night’s warning still glowed behind her gaze: If you’re lying, I’ll burn it all down myself.

Benjamin’s heart hammered when Clara slipped in through the back stairwell, breathless and with her apron askew. Her fingers shook as she caught his wrist and tugged him into the shadows. “Listen to me—there’s something I’ve kept from you.” Her voice was rough, like brittle paper.

He tried to steady her. “Clara, they’ll drag me out in chains. If I don’t have more than this—”

“I know,” she hissed. She pulled a small black drive from the folds of her apron, pressing it hard into his palm. “Years ago, I caught her. Evelyn. I walked in on her mixing something—powder, white as chalk—into Old Master Harper’s soup. I hid behind the pantry door. She never knew. After he died that night, I knew what I’d seen. I kept this—footage from the old kitchen cam she never remembered.”

Benjamin’s throat dried out. “You saw her kill him. And you never told me?”

Clara’s eyes filled with years of regret. “Your mother asked me to protect you first. If Evelyn knew, I’d be in the ground with her father in law.” She touched his cheek, the gesture small but fierce. “No better time than now, lad.”

Footsteps pounded on the stairs. Benjamin shoved the drive into his pocket. He closed his hand over hers for half a second—more gratitude than he could say—then turned toward the door.

Two uniformed officers stepped into the grand foyer, their badges catching the chandelier light. Evelyn stood between them, calm and gleaming, all silk and poison. Marcus leaned on the banister, smirking. Cousins and aunts peeked around corners, whispering like rats in the walls.

“There he is.” Evelyn’s smile dripped sweetness. “The thief who stole from my family’s firm. I want him arrested—now.”

Benjamin walked down the stairs slowly, each step a thunderclap in his chest. When he reached the bottom, he squared his shoulders. “I’m no thief,” he said, his voice took over.

One of the officers raised an eyebrow. “Then explain this.” He held up a manila envelope—Evelyn’s forged evidence, ready to nail him to the wall.

Benjamin ignored it. He pulled the folded photocopies from inside his coat—Victor’s trust documents, the Carter Air deeds, the shares, the sealed ledger page marked Heir Must Hold the Pendant and Code. He turned them for the officers to see. The pendant slipped free, glinting like fire under the foyer lights.

“I’m Benjamin Carter. I’m Victor Carter’s grandson. The trust is real. These prove it, and so does this.” He lifted the small drive Clara had given him, felt its weight like a live wire in his palm. “On this drive is video proof Evelyn poisoned Old Master Harper to bury the trust forever.”

A sharp gasp echoed through the hall. Marcus’s grin faltered, then vanished. One of the officers glanced at Evelyn, whose composed facade was starting to crack like fragile ice.

Evelyn let out a harsh laugh, trying to sound confident but sounding more biting and raw instead. “Video? Just old rumors and nonsense. That senile fool drank himself into a stroke—”

Clara stepped forward, apron still askew, voice trembling but clear. “I was there. I saw her. She thought she was alone, she sent the rest of us off to the garden. I slipped back for a towel. I saw her sprinkle that powder. Next morning he was dead in his bed, cold as the grave.” She lifted her chin, daring Evelyn to strike her down.

Evelyn turned on Clara, her eyes like open blades. “You old parasite. You lived in my house. I fed you—”

“Yeah,” Clara spat back. “You fed me scraps while you buried your father’s empire.”

The lead officer took the drive from Benjamin, nodding to his partner. “We’ll verify this footage right now.” He pulled out a small tablet, slotting the drive in. Grainy footage flickered to life. Old Master Harper’s kitchen, marble, bright under flickering lights. Evelyn’s silk sleeves in frame, her voice unmistakable: “Sleep well, Father. This meddling ends tonight.” She stirred the soup, spoon clinking glass. Powder dusted her fingers. She tasted it. Smiled.

Silence swallowed the foyer whole.

Amelia stared at the floor, her hands white-knuckled on the banister. When her eyes lifted, they found Benjamin’s, raw and unsure. “So it’s true.” Her voice cracked. “She killed her own father-in-law for this.”