Chapter 8 - THE DEBT RYAN NEVER OUTRAN
Ryan tried charm first.
Then sarcasm.
Then outrage.
When none of those worked, he left the room and punched a wall hard enough to split the skin across his knuckles.
Margaret rushed after him. Emily followed more slowly, stopping just outside the study door where their voices carried through the narrow opening.
“You idiot,” Margaret hissed. “Why was that in there?”
“I told you those records were gone.”
“Clearly they weren’t.”
“Maybe because your lawyer keeps files like a funeral home.”
Margaret’s voice dropped. “Do not turn this on me.”
Emily leaned against the hallway wall and listened.
Ryan’s debt was worse than Ethan knew. Not reckless weekend losses. Structured private gambling debt, bridge notes, and two collateralized loans against future inheritance assumptions. He had been using the idea of future Holloway control to stay afloat.
Emily closed her eyes.
So that was the engine under the cruelty.
If Ethan took full control in six months, Ryan’s access to committee-backed money would shrink.
If Emily were declared unstable, the transfer stalled.
Margaret remained chair.
Ryan survived.
The villains, as always, had reasons that sounded practical when spoken low enough.
Later that night, Ethan confronted his brother in the billiard room.
“How much?” he asked.
Ryan smirked. “Enough to make you feel superior.”
“How much?”
Ryan’s jaw hardened. “Four million, depending on the week.”
Ethan went silent.
“You used family funds?”
“Mom authorized committee bridges.”
“For company review? For household protection? Is that the language?”
Ryan laughed sharply. “Spare me the governance voice, Ethan. Dad handed you a kingdom. I got an allowance and a lecture.”
Emily watched Ethan absorb that.
There it was too:
not just debt, but grievance.
Ryan went on. “Do you know what it’s like living as the second son in a house where everything already belongs to the first? Mom understood. She knew the company should stay in hands that appreciate loyalty.”
Ethan’s voice grew colder than Emily had ever heard. “So you and Mom poison a dog and try to frame my wife?”
Ryan flinched at the directness.
“I did not kill Baxter.”
“Did you drug him?”
Ryan said nothing.
“Did you use the whistle?”
Nothing.
That was answer enough.
Ryan finally looked at Emily.
“You really think you’ve won something? Even if you prove the dog was poisoned, people saw you with the shovel. They saw your face. You terrified the committee on purpose.”
Emily stepped into the room. “Yes.”
Ryan laughed. “You sound proud.”
“I’m practical,” she said. “There’s a difference.”
He leaned toward her. “You still have no idea what this family can do.”
Emily’s expression did not change. “Neither do you.”
The next morning, the housekeeper, Nora Ellis, requested a private meeting with Richard.
Nora had worked at Holloway Estate for nineteen years.
She looked ten years older by the time she sat down in the library.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she said.
Richard replied, “You absolutely should.”
Nora twisted her hands. “Mr. Ryan told me to clean the side yard before dawn. Said the dog had an accident and not to mention it because Mrs. Emily was ‘having a moment.’”
Emily felt the room sharpen.
“Did you see Baxter before I did?” she asked.
Nora nodded.
“Was he already dead?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see who gave him anything?”
Nora hesitated, then whispered, “Mr. Ryan gave him treats near the garage yesterday afternoon. And Mrs. Margaret told me not to let Mr. Ethan know Baxter had been sick all day.”
Ethan’s face changed.
“Sick?”
Nora nodded miserably. “He was stumbling. I thought maybe he ate something.”
Richard took notes. “Anything else?”
Nora swallowed. “There’s a small camera over the garage, the old wildlife one. It points toward the service drive, not the patio. Mr. Ryan forgot about it after the landscaping work.”
Emily looked at Ethan.
If that camera was still functioning, it might show Ryan with the treats—or someone else.
Richard pulled up the feed archive with the security tech that afternoon.
The footage was grainy but clear enough.
At 4:12 p.m., Ryan emerged from the garage with Baxter trotting beside him.
At 4:14, Ryan bent, gave the dog something from his pocket, and glanced over both shoulders.
At 4:16, Margaret appeared, spoke to Ryan, and handed him a second small packet.
Emily stared.
Ethan looked like he might be sick.
Then the time stamp jumped after a signal glitch.
When the footage resumed, both were gone.
Richard exhaled slowly.
“We have enough to destroy their story,” he said.
Emily should have felt triumphant.
Instead, she felt only colder.
Because if Margaret had walked Ryan into this much risk, she had another plan ready.
May you like
And she did.
At 6:03 p.m., Dr. Lansing himself arrived at the estate with police escort and a formal request for an involuntary wellness assessment—signed not by Margaret this time, but by Ryan.
