Chapter 14 - Footsteps in the Guest House
Arthur didn't call the police. In the upper echelons of corporate dynasty, calling the authorities without ironclad evidence was suicide—especially when the man you were accusing controlled half the judges in the state.
Instead, Marcus forced Julian’s office safe open at gunpoint, seizing backup files while Julian sat laughing, fully aware that the brass key from the garden was already gone. It had been couriered to Sovereign Trust the moment it was dug up.
When they returned to the Vance estate at midnight, the compound was swallowed in an unnatural silence. Fog rolled off the nearby lake, snaking through the iron gates like ghostly fingers.
Arthur led Lily back to the main house. "You stay in the master suite tonight, sweetheart. Marcus will have men outside every door."
Lily nodded numbly. The terror of the past forty-eight hours had stripped the color from her cheeks once more. She clutched her mother’s old silver locket tightly against her throat.
At 2:15 AM, the power died.
The modern backup generators should have kicked on within three seconds. They didn't. The mansion plunged into total, suffocating darkness.
In the guest house, situated fifty yards behind the rose garden, an ancient brass radio suddenly sprang to life.
Through the mansion’s intercom system—an old, hardwired network that bypassed the digital security grid—a voice began to hum.
It was a woman’s voice, singing a nursery rhyme.
*“Hush, little baby, don’t say a word... Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird...”*
Lily sat bolt upright in bed, her breath catching in her throat. She recognized that humming. It wasn't Rachel’s soothing tone. It was the high-pitched, mocking pitch that had echoed down the concrete steps of the cellar while she lay shivering on a dog mattress.
Victoria.
"Grandpa!" Lily screamed, throwing her blankets aside.
Arthur was already in the hallway, an old service revolver in his grip, illuminated only by the pale moonlight streaming through the skylights. Marcus and two security guards were rushing up the curved staircase.
"The radio in the guest wing," Lily cried, tears streaming down her face. "She’s here! Victoria broke out!"
"Impossible," Marcus said, checking his tactical tablet. "State Penitentiary confirmed Victoria is still in solitary confinement."
"Then who is in that guest house?" Arthur demanded.
May you like
Arthur racked the slide of his revolver. He didn't wait for Marcus’s tactical formation. He descended the stairs, out through the fractured glass doors, and walked straight through the midnight mist toward the darkened guest house where the nursery rhyme continued to play.
***
