Chapter 5 - The Signing
The private estate basement was freezing cold and smelled of damp mold.
Emily was strapped to a heavy iron chair in the middle of a dimly lit room.
A single spotlight hung above her, casting long, eerie shadows across the floor.
Her vision was blurry, but she could make out two figures standing near a wooden table.
Arthur was standing beside a thick set of legal documents, holding a gold fountain pen.
Beside him stood an elderly man in a formal suit, holding a leather briefcase.
"Is she in a fit state to sign, Arthur?" the lawyer asked hesitantly, looking at Emily's limp body.
"She lost her speech and movement due to the trauma of her condition, Mr. Vance," Arthur lied effortlessly.
"Her physician assured me she understands everything and wants me to execute her estate."
"She cannot hold the pen, Arthur," the lawyer pointed out, frowning slightly.
"I will assist her hand," Arthur said, his voice dropping into a gentle, deceitful tone.
Arthur walked over to Emily and grabbed her frozen right wrist.
His grip was painfully tight, digging his fingernails into her delicate skin.
"Isn't that right, Emily?" Arthur whispered into her ear, leaning down close.
"You want me to take care of everything for you, don't you?"
Emily screamed inside her head, fighting with every ounce of her soul to pull her arm back.
Her body refused to respond to her frantic commands.
Arthur jammed the gold pen into her rigid fingers and pressed her hand down onto the paper.
He dragged her limp hand across the signature line, forming a jagged, unnatural line.
"There," Arthur said brightly, turning to the lawyer.
"The Sterling fortune, the holdings, and the estate are now officially transferred."
"This doesn't look like her usual signature, Arthur," the lawyer murmured, examining the paper carefully.
"She is dying, lawyer," Arthur snapped, his friendly mask slipping for a split second.
"Do you expect perfect calligraphy from a woman on her deathbed?"
"No, of course not," the lawyer stammered, intimidated by Arthur's sharp tone.
"I will take these to the court first thing tomorrow morning."
"Good," Arthur said, his eyes gleaming with malicious triumph.
"Now leave us. I want to spend her final hours alone with her."
The lawyer packed his briefcase quickly and hurried out of the basement.
The heavy oak door creaked shut, leaving Arthur and Emily in absolute silence.
Arthur slowly turned around, his smile vanishing, replaced by a cold, sadistic stare.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver lighter.
Flicking the wheel, a bright flame danced in the dark room, reflecting in Emily’s helpless, wide eyes.
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"Now that I own everything," Arthur whispered, stepping closer to her chair.
"It's time to dispose of the original owner."
