Chapter 4 - NIGHT AT THE MANOR
The Vance Estate sprawled across ten acres of prime oceanfront property in Bellevue. The black iron gates were shut tight, flanked by high stone walls and security cameras that swept the perimeter every thirty seconds.
At 3:00 AM, heavy rain poured from the ink-black sky, blurring the bright yellow crime-scene tape wrapped across the grand front entrance of the mansion.
A non-descript black sedan pulled up along the tree line two hundred yards away from the front gate. Inside sat Julian, wearing dark clothes and a waterproof jacket, alongside Detective Mercer, who was off-duty and wearing plain clothes.
"This is crazy, Hayes," Mercer said, turning off the engine. "If Victoria’s private security catches us on this property, they won't call the cops. They’ll shoot first and ask questions later."
"My sister almost died for what's inside that house," Julian replied, pulling a small brass key from his pocket. "Maya gave me the key to the side servant entrance and the security code for the kitchen panel. She remembered the sequence Ethan used."
"And if Ethan's mother already changed the codes?"
"Then I break a window," Julian said without hesitation.
Mercer stared at him for a long moment, then let out a resigned sigh, pulling a pair of leather gloves onto her hands. "I'm off the clock, and I'm strictly acting as your personal safety escort. If we find that drive, it goes directly into an evidence bag, clear?"
"Clear," Julian nodded.
They slipped out of the car, staying low beneath the shadows of the massive oak trees surrounding the estate. They bypassed the main gate by creeping along the eastern drainage ditch, slipping through a small maintenance hatch in the stone wall that Maya had pointed out on a map she drew from her hospital bed.
The mansion loomed like a dark gothic fortress against the stormy night sky. Lights were on on the second floor—Victoria’s personal guard was likely inside, keeping watch over the property while Ethan sat in his jail cell.
Moving silently across the wet lawn, Julian and Mercer reached the glass sunroom attached to the west wing of the estate. The room was filled with Maya's drafting tables, rolled-up blueprints, and half-finished architectural models. It was her sanctuary in a house that had become her prison.
Julian reached the side keypad. His fingers hovered over the rubber buttons.
0-4-1-2, he remembered Maya saying. The day we moved in. The day I thought my life was turning into a fairytale.
Julian punched in the digits.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
A tiny green light flashed, and the heavy electronic lock clicked open.
"We're in," Julian whispered.
They slipped inside, closing the heavy wooden door behind them. The air inside smelled of expensive polish, cold marble, and jasmine—Maya's favorite perfume.
"Find the drafting board," Mercer instructed in a low whisper, clicking on a small, low-beam flashlight.
Julian scanned the room. In the center of the sunroom stood a massive, custom-built mahogany drafting table. He rushed over to it, feeling along the underside of the heavy wooden surface.
Near the left joint, his fingers brushed against a small, seamless latch. He pressed it hard. A false compartment popped open with a quiet click.
Inside lay a sleek black metal flash drive and a leather-bound journal filled with Maya's handwritten notes, dates, and account numbers.
"Got it," Julian breathed, grabbing the drive and holding it up to the light. "This is everything. The shell companies, the defective medical contracts—"
Suddenly, the bright overhead lights of the sunroom flashed on, blinding them both.
"I knew you were an idiot, Hayes, but I didn't think you were a burglar," a harsh, mocking voice echoed from the doorway.
Julian and Mercer spun around.
Standing in the doorway was Ethan Vance. He wasn't in jail. He wore a crisp blue dress shirt, black trousers, and a white medical bandage along his swollen jaw where Julian had punched him hours earlier. Behind him stood two massive men in dark suits, both holding concealed holsters beneath their jackets.
Beside Ethan stood Victoria Vance, clutching a diamond-encrusted cane, her expression cold as ice.
"Ethan...?" Mercer gasped, her hand instinctively dropping to her side hip holster. "How are you out? The bail hearing wasn't scheduled until nine AM!"
"My family doesn't wait for schedules, Detective," Ethan sneered, taking a step into the room. He pointed a finger at Julian. "Judge Vance signed my emergency release at midnight. Unrestricted bail. And now, look what we have here... the heroic ER chief and a dirty cop breaking into my private residence."
"You're laundering money through Riverside, Ethan!" Julian roared, taking a step toward him, clutching the flash drive tightly in his fist. "You sold defective equipment that killed innocent people! It's over!"
Victoria chuckled softly, a chilling, dry sound. "Over? My dear boy, nothing is over. Do you really think a little flash drive matters? Who do you think owns the servers that data was backed up on? Vance Capital."
"This drive contains local cryptographic keys," Mercer interrupted sharply, drawing her badge. "Without this physical drive, your off-shore accounts can't execute transfers. Maya explained everything to the federal prosecutor, Victoria. You're trapped."
Victoria’s calm demeanor cracked for a fraction of a second. Her grey eyes flashed with pure venom. She turned to the two armed security guards behind her.
May you like
"Retrieve the flash drive," Victoria commanded casually. "And ensure Dr. Hayes and the detective suffer an unfortunate... home invasion accident. The police will understand. Two intruders shot by private security in the middle of the night."
The two guards immediately pulled sleek black handguns from their jackets, racking the slides with terrifying synchronization.
