Chapter 7 - The Smug Return
Richard’s flight from Aspen landed at 10:00 AM on Monday. He and Evelyn took a black car from the airport. I watched them pull up to the driveway through the security cameras I had repositioned to cover the front gates.
The gates did not open.
I saw Richard roll down the window, punch his code into the keypad, and frown when the red error light flashed. He punched it again, harder. Nothing. Frustrated, he stepped out of the car, looking immaculate in his cashmere overcoat, and pressed the intercom button.
I hit the release switch from the kitchen monitor. "Yes?" I said.
"The gate’s broken," Richard snapped, his voice crackling through the speaker. "Open it. We’re exhausted."
"The gate works perfectly," I replied, my voice steady and cold. "You can walk through the pedestrian side door. The car stays out."
I could see the confusion ripple across his face, quickly replaced by annoyance. He muttered something to his mother, grabbed their overnight bags, and pushed through the side gate. They marched up the long driveway, Evelyn complaining audibly about her heels on the cobblestone.
When they reached the front door, Richard found his key wouldn't turn. He pounded on the heavy oak.
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I opened the door. I stood in the threshold, wearing a tailored suit, looking every inch the CEO my father had raised me to be. Behind me stood Marcus, and flanking the hallway were the two security contractors, their presence silent and imposing.
Richard’s annoyance vanished, replaced by a sudden, sharp wariness. "What is this?" he demanded, looking from the guards to Marcus, and finally to me. "What’s going on?"
