Chapter 4 - Blood in the Nursery
We broke every traffic law in Illinois getting back to Lake Forest.
When the Escalade slammed through the estate gates at 3:45 AM, the mansion was ominously dark. The floodlights around the perimeter had been cut, plunging the stone facade into deep, suffocating shadows.
"Team Two, report!" Marcus barked into his tactical radio as we ran up the front steps. "Report status!"
Static was the only response.
KZZZZZT...
I drew my pistol, kicking open the heavy front oak doors.
The grand foyer was dead quiet. The air smelled faintly of burnt copper and cordite.
Lying near the base of the marble staircase were two of my perimeter guards, unconscious, their weapons missing.
"They're alive," Marcus noted, dropping to one knee to check their pulses. "Tranquilizer darts. Tazer-grade paralytics. Whoever did this didn't want a loud firefight."
"They wanted the children," I said, my voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper.
I didn't take the stairs. I sprinted up the service elevator conduit, taking three steps at a time, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped beast.
I reached the third-floor nursery wing.
The double glass doors leading to the baby suite were shattered, crystal fragments covering the thick carpet.
Inside, Maya was sitting on the floor, weeping hysterically, her hands tied behind her back with heavy plastic zip-ties. Beside her lay Dr. Vance, knocked cold with a laceration across his forehead.
The three mahogany cribs in the center of the room were completely empty.
Theo, Miles, and Nora were gone.
"Adrien!" Maya sobbed as I dropped to my knees, pulling a combat knife from my boot and slicing through her zip-ties in a single movement. "Adrien, I'm so sorry! She... she had help!"
"Where is Elena?" I demanded, holding Maya by her shoulders, forcing her to look into my eyes. "Where is she, Maya?!"
"She took them down the private service tunnel behind the wine cellar!" Maya gasped, clutching my lapels. "She had three armed men with her! They were wearing M.E.S. tactical uniforms!"
"And Sophie?" I asked, a knot tightening in my stomach. "Where is Sophie?"
Maya pointed with a trembling hand toward the open walk-in closet in the corner of the nursery.
I ran to the closet.
Sitting inside on a pile of baby blankets was little four-year-old Sophie. She was sitting cross-legged, clutching her handmade rag doll against her face, shivering violently.
In her right hand, she was holding a heavy, black leather-bound journal.
"Sophie," I whispered, crouching down beside her, gently pulling her hands away from her face. "Are you hurt, sweetheart?"
Sophie shook her head slowly. She held out the black journal toward me.
"The bad lady dropped this when she pulled the babies out," Sophie whispered, her dark eyes hollow. "She said... she said you were going to pay for what happened to her sister."
I took the journal.
It was Elena Vance’s private diary—a ledger containing handwritten notes, entry codes, and operational blueprints of my entire estate.
I flipped to the last page.
Written in bold, jagged dark red ink was a message meant specifically for me:
"Adrien—My sister died because she lived in your shadow. You stole her life, and then you built an empire on her grave. Now I take yours. If you want your children back alive, come to Dock 14 at the Chicago Harbor alone. Bring the master decryption drive for Moretti Estate Systems. You have one hour. If I see a single police car or a security guard... Theo, Miles, and Nora will feed the fishes in Lake Michigan."
I closed the journal with a sharp, heavy snap.
I stood up, turning toward Marcus, who was standing in the shattered doorway, holding an assault rifle.
"Boss," Marcus said, his voice grave. "I've assembled Team One. We can surround Dock 14 in twenty minutes—"
"No," I interrupted, setting Elena's journal on the mahogany table. "You heard her, Marcus. No guards. No teams."
"Adrien, it's a trap!" Maya cried out, standing up from the floor. "She's going to kill you whether you give her the drive or not!"
I reached into my breast pocket, pulling out a sleek, brushed-titanium USB drive containing the master source code for my entire defense network—a drive worth billions of dollars on the global black market.
I looked down at the empty cribs, then at little Sophie holding her rag doll.
"She thinks she's dealing with a businessman who lost his mind," I murmured, my storm-grey eyes flashing with an ancient, deadly promise. "She forgot who I was before I wore tailored suits."
May you like
I turned to Marcus.
"Give me the heavy vest, the submachine gun, and the night-vision optics," I commanded. "Tonight, the Vance Syndicate learns why my family owns Chicago."
