Chapter 5 - Shadows at the Gate
The two security guards stepped forward, blocking the only exit out of the art studio.
Panic surged through my body, but years of living on the edge had taught me one thing: fear is useless if you don't use it to fight back.
As the first guard reached out to grab my shoulder, I grabbed a heavy glass jar of turpentine off the art table and threw the harsh liquid straight into his eyes.
The guard screamed, clutching his face in agony.
I didn't hesitate. I shoved the easel with the heavy canvas directly into the second guard, sending him stumbling backward onto the floor.
“Stop her!” Julian roared.
I sprinted past them, tearing out of the art studio and running down the long, dusty corridor of the North Wing as fast as my feet could carry me.
Clack! Clack! Clack!
The sound of heavy boots echoed right behind me.
I burst through the heavy oak fire door back into the second-floor gallery, slamming the door shut and locking it from the inside with Noah’s brass key.
BOOM! BOOM!
The guards began slamming their shoulders against the reinforced wood on the other side.
I sprinted down the hallway toward the grand staircase. “Noah! Lucas! Hide!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.
I scrambled down the marble stairs, landing in the grand foyer just as the double front doors swung open.
Adrian Vale stepped inside, flanked by two corporate executives holding leather briefcases.
He looked up, stunned to see me disheveled, out of breath, and sprinting toward him with terror in my eyes.
“Emma? What is the meaning of this?” Adrian asked angrily.
“Mr. Vale!” I cried out, reaching him and grabbing his coat lapels. “It’s Julian! Julian killed your wife!”
The atmosphere in the room shattered into instant ice. The two executives gasped, stepping back.
Adrian’s face went deadly pale. “What did you just say?”
Before I could answer, the fire door at the top of the stairs shattered open with a loud crunch. Julian Vance strolled onto the second-floor balcony, his clothes immaculately arranged, a look of sorrowful concern painted perfectly across his face.
“Adrian! Thank God you're home,” Julian called down, his voice laced with practiced panic. “We have an emergency. Miss Carter has experienced a psychological break!”
I turned, staring up at Julian in utter disbelief.
“She broke into the restricted server room in the North Wing,” Julian continued smoothly, walking down the stairs step by step. “When my guards tried to stop her, she attacked them. Look at her, Adrian. She’s unstable. She’s been manipulating the boys since the day she arrived!”
“That’s a lie!” I screamed, turning back to Adrian. “He’s lying to you! He’s been stealing from your company for years! Evelyn found out, and he tampered with her car! She left a journal, Adrian! She left a flash drive!”
I reached into my pocket to pull out the USB drive—but my pocket was empty.
It must have fallen out during the struggle in the art studio.
Julian smiled a cold, victorious smile as he stepped off the last stair. “Searching for this, Emma?”
He pulled the black USB drive from his jacket pocket, tossing it lightly in his palm.
“She was trying to steal proprietary corporate files to sell to your competitors, Adrian,” Julian lied seamlessly. “I caught her red-handed.”
Adrian stood frozen between us. His gray eyes darted from Julian, his trusted friend and security chief of ten years, to me—a caregiver who had been in his home for less than forty-eight hours.
“Mr. Vale, please...” I whispered, tears of frustration brimming in my eyes. “Look at your home. Look at your sons. They aren't angry—they are terrified! They’ve been living under the thumb of the man who took their mother away from them!”
“Enough!” Adrian barked, his voice raw with overwhelming torment.
Silence fell over the foyer like a heavy shroud.
Adrian looked at Julian. Then he looked at me.
“Julian,” Adrian said softly. “Escort Miss Carter to her room. Lock the door. We will wait for the police to arrive.”
“Mr. Vale, no!” I pleaded as Julian’s guards stepped forward and seized my arms. “Listen to me!”
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Julian leaned close to my ear as the guards dragged me away toward the third floor.
“Nice try, Emma,” Julian whispered, his breath cold against my neck. “But rich men like Adrian Vale prefer comfortable lies over painful truths. You’re done.”
