Chapter 7: Bellamy’s Blindness

Clara knew that Silas Bellamy, Liam’s corrupt appraiser, was a key figure in Liam’s scheme, even if he was oblivious to the supernatural dimension. She needed to understand his role, to see if there was any crack in his facade that could be exploited. She made an appointment to see him, framing it as a follow-up for Liam’s property assessments.

Silas Bellamy’s office was the antithesis of Elara’s home. It was sleek, modern, with glass walls overlooking the bustling downtown. The air was cool and sterile, smelling faintly of expensive cologne. Bellamy himself was perfectly coiffed, his smile smooth and practiced, but his eyes held a restless, almost shifty quality.

“Clara, my dear,” Bellamy purred, rising to shake her hand. “A pleasure. I assume you’re here to discuss your brother’s magnificent vision?”

“Something like that,” Clara replied, settling into a plush leather chair. “I just wanted to understand the appraisal process better. Elara Kincaid’s property, specifically. My brother seems very insistent on acquiring it.”

Bellamy chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

“Ah, the Kincaid property. A charming relic, to be sure, but utterly impractical. And Elara, bless her heart, is quite the… traditionalist. But we know how to handle these old timers, don’t we?”

Clara felt a surge of disgust at his casual dismissal of Elara, but she kept her face neutral.

“How exactly do you ‘handle’ them?” Clara asked, pushing gently.

Bellamy winked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“It’s all about strategic valuation, my dear. Make them an offer they can’t refuse, or rather, an appraisal that makes any other offer look ridiculous. We document every minor flaw, every peeling paint chip, every ‘structural integrity concern.’ It’s perfectly legal, of course. Just… comprehensive.”

He paused, taking a sip from a crystal glass of water, his eyes darting around the room, not quite meeting Clara’s gaze. His foot tapped a restless rhythm against the carpet. He was clearly proud of his unethical cleverness, but the underlying nervousness suggested he knew how close to the line he was walking.

“So, the appraisal you filed for Elara’s home,” Clara continued, “you’re confident it’s accurate, given its historical significance and unique features?”

Bellamy laughed, a short, sharp sound.

“Historical significance doesn’t pay the bills, Clara. And ‘unique features’ just mean more problems for a developer. That house is a money pit. The appraisal reflects its true market value, which, let’s be honest, is practically nil if you factor in the land’s highest and best use. Liam’s offer is a lifeline, not a lowball.”

He was completely oblivious. He saw Elara as an obstacle, a senile old woman with no grasp of modern economics. He saw himself as a shrewd professional, facilitating a lucrative deal. He had no inkling of the ancient entity, the generations of Kincaid guardians, or the true nature of Liam’s obsession. His blindness was absolute, shielded by his own greed and cynical pragmatism.

“Liam spoke highly of your… expertise,” Clara said, trying to gauge his deeper complicity. “He mentioned you had a knack for dealing with ‘unseen complications’ on properties.”

Bellamy stiffened slightly, his foot tapping faster.

“Unseen complications?” he repeated, a forced laugh escaping him. “Oh, you mean like… hidden easements, or obscure zoning regulations? Standard stuff. Nothing a good lawyer and a strategic appraisal can’t iron out.”

He waved a dismissive hand, but Clara noticed a bead of sweat forming on his temple. He knew Liam was doing more than just strategic appraisals. He knew about the aggressive tactics, the borderline legal maneuvers Liam was employing. He was enabling Liam’s unethical methods, but utterly unaware of the supernatural puppeteer pulling Liam’s strings. The petty cruelty here was Bellamy’s casual contempt for Elara, his easy dismissal of her home as “worthless,” while inadvertently serving the entity’s agenda. He saw her as a feeble obstacle to be brushed aside, not a guardian protecting her family and the town.

“Right,” Clara said slowly, picking up on his evasiveness. “So, nothing… unusual about the Kincaid property itself, other than the usual ‘old house’ issues?”

Bellamy fidgeted, adjusting his tie.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, Clara. Just a stubborn owner and a developer eager to make a profit. Business as usual, really.”

He forced another smile, but his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, clearly signaling the end of their conversation. He wanted Clara out of his office. He had revealed his contempt for Elara and his knowledge of Liam’s unethical, but not supernatural, tactics. He was a willing pawn in the human side of Liam’s aggressive push, entirely blind to the true, monstrous game.

As Clara left Bellamy’s sterile office, the crisp, cool air felt oppressive. Bellamy was a man motivated by pure greed, confident in his ability to manipulate the system for profit. He truly believed he was simply being clever, utterly oblivious to the dark current swirling beneath the surface of Liam’s ambition. His self-assured callousness was a frightening testament to the entity’s subtle power. He was an enabler, a tool in Liam’s hands, and Liam, in turn, was a tool in the entity’s. The layers of manipulation were terrifyingly deep.