Chapter 252: Chapter Two Hundred And Fifty Two
Eric stood before the massive oak desk where his grandmother, Elena, sat like a queen on her throne. The air in the Dowager Duchess’s study became heavy with silence. The morning light streamed through the tall windows, but it did little to warm the cool, somber atmosphere of the room.
Without a word, Eric placed a small stack of papers on the polished wood before her. They were crisp and official-looking, but they felt tainted, wrong.
"What is this?" Elena asked, her voice calm, but her sharp eyes were already assessing her grandson’s grim expression.
"These are the papers that played the major role in getting the Kirk family to settle so quickly and quietly," he replied, his voice low and even.
Elena picked up the top sheet, her fingers tracing the bold headline at the top of the first page:
Designation for Textile Supervisor - Workshop Division.
She looked up at him, her expression questioning. " Where is this coming from?" She asked, her voice filled with confusion. " I’ve seen this exact document days ago. What is goin on Eric?"
Eric replied, his voice low and serious, laying out the pieces of the puzzle he had painstakingly assembled. "It’s a formal designation, supposedly signed by the deceased worker, Mr. Kirk. It says that he himself was the one in charge of the textile department in the workshop. The one in charge of quality control for the textile department. It claims he was the supervisor." Eric paused, letting the implication hang in the air. "Therefore, he is the one responsible for the chemical accident involving himself."
"I see the strategy," Elena said, her voice a low murmur. "A convenient way to close the case. But why are you reviewing this now? Philip told me it was all handled."
"Upon close examination," Eric said, tapping a finger on the signature at the bottom of the page, "this signature does not match the deceased’s handwriting. It is a forgery. We obtained a copy of Mr. Kirk’s original employment contract from the archives."
"What?" Elena’s voice was a sharp crack in the quiet room.
"The other workers in his department said they have never seen these papers before," Eric continued, his case building piece by piece. "They said Mr. Kirk was a dressmaker, a good one, but never a supervisor. The story the hiring agent told Mrs. Kirk—that her husband didn’t review the textiles properly—that’s not true either." He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the desk. "The truth is, Mr. Kirk was never the textile supervisor. In fact, there was no supervisor at all. Every textile that came in from Philip’s new suppliers was used as is, without inspection. Because of how fast everything happened after the accident, they needed a scapegoat. So they forged a promotion letter and pinned his death on his supposed carelessness."
He let the ugly truth hang in the air for a moment before delivering the final, damning conclusion. He looked directly at his grandmother, his eyes holding hers. "And this entire picture, this cruel and calculated lie, was Philip’s idea."
Elena was silent. She stared down at the forged document, her face an unreadable mask. Eric thought he saw a flicker of profound disappointment in her eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
He then brought out a thick, leather-bound ledger from the inside of his coat. He dropped it on the table with a solid, heavy thud that echoed in the quiet room. It landed right next to the designation papers—the lie and the truth, side by side.
"I got this from his aide, Lewis," Eric explained. "Every corrupt thing Philip has done since he became acting head of Carson, including how he created a separate bribery fund to secure contracts and silence officials. It’s all in that ledger. Every illegal transaction, every secret deal."
There was a long, heavy silence. The only sound was the slow, rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Eric waited for his grandmother’s outrage, for her to declare Philip unfit, for the contest between them to be over.
Instead, Elena let out a long, weary sigh. "I didn’t know he had gone this far," she said, her voice laced with a deep, chilling sadness.
Eric was confused. The response was not what he expected. "Grandmother?"
She finally looked up from the desk, her eyes seeming older, more tired than he had ever seen them. "I wasn’t bluffing when I said I would watch you two for a year, Eric. I meant it." She paused, her gaze unwavering. "I knew Philip was meeting with council members behind my back. I knew he was throwing money at them, securing their loyalty for when he planned to take over. I knew how he has been buying port officials to stay quiet about his selling some of Carson’s finer textiles illegally on the side for his own profit."
Eric could only stare at her, his mouth parting slightly in disbelief. His mind struggled to process her words. She knew?
"I have someone," she continued, her voice as calm as if she were discussing the weather, "a person I trust completely, who has been keeping me in touch with everything that’s going on in this family and in this business. I have received a report on my desk every week for the past year."
"But this..." She raised the paper up. " I’m shocked he would go this length to save his face. I’m utterly disappointed in him."
Eric just sat there, completely and utterly shocked. He had come into this room feeling like the bearer of a terrible, world-altering truth. He had believed he was opening his grandmother’s eyes to the rot within their family. But her eyes had been wide open the entire time. He had been playing a game, thinking he was the only one who knew the real rules, only to find out that his grandmother was not just the judge; she was the one who had built the entire board.