Chapter 3 - THE DARKNESS OF VANCE MANOR
The silence that followed the sudden blackout was deafening.
High above us, the crystal chandeliers went dark, leaving the vast nursery illuminated only by the faint, pale moonlight filtering through the tall arched windows.
"Ethan!" I gasped, pulling Leo close against my chest in the shadow of the crib.
"Don't move, Clara," Ethan said instantly, his voice calm but tight with tension. I heard the rustle of his tuxedo jacket as he pulled out his cell phone, turning on its bright flashlight beam.
He swept the light across the room, illuminating the dark corners and the locked heavy wooden doors.
"The estate has a backup generator system," Ethan whispered, moving swiftly toward the wall control panel beside the nursery door. "It should have kicked in automatically within five seconds. Someone manually cut the main breaker in the basement."
A cold chill ran straight down my spine. "You mean... she's still inside the house?"
Ethan didn't answer right away. He stepped over to the balcony doors, double-checking the heavy iron latches. "Investigator Vance said she hit the gate with an SUV, but she could have doubled back through the underground wine cellar entrance. She knows the layout of this estate almost as well as I do."
Suddenly, the house phone mounted on the wall near the nursery changing table began to ring.
The sharp, mechanical chime echoed through the silent, dark nursery like a alarm bell.
Ethan walked over to the phone, picking up the receiver and pressing it to his ear. "Hello?"
A low, distorted crackle came through the speaker, followed by the soft, chilling sound of a woman laughing.
"Did you really think I'd leave without my prize, Ethan?" Victoria's voice whispered through the receiver, sounding thin and psychotic over the line. "You ruined my wedding day. You humiliated me in front of your precious little servant. But I'm not leaving Chicago empty-handed."
Ethan's hand tightened around the plastic receiver until his knuckles turned white. "It's over, Victoria. The police have surrounded the perimeter. Turn yourself in before you make this worse."
"It's only over when I say it's over!" Victoria snapped, her voice rising into an unhinged snarl. "I spent six months pretending to love your pathetic, grieving routine! I spent months listening to you talk about your dead wife! I earned that multi-million dollar trust fund, Ethan! And if I can't have your money, I'm going to take the one thing you care about more than your wealth."
"Touch my son, and I will hunt you down myself," Ethan growled, his voice dropping into a deadly, terrifying register.
"You won't have to hunt me down, darling," Victoria purred chillingly. "I'm already inside. And the fire in the basement is growing very, very fast."
CLICK.
The line went dead.
A second later, the faint, distinct smell of acrid smoke began to drift under the crack of the nursery's heavy wooden doors.
"Smoke!" I gasped, clutching Leo as the scent reached my nose.
Ethan slammed the receiver back onto the wall hook and rushed over to the door. He touched the wooden panel with the back of his hand—it was already growing warm.
"She set a fire near the basement stairs," Ethan cursed, his eyes darting around the dark room. "The ventilation system is pulling the smoke right up to the second floor. We can't go out through the main hallway."
"What about the balcony?" I asked, looking toward the glass doors leading to the stone terrace outside.
"The balcony drop is thirty feet down onto concrete," Ethan said, rushing to the balcony to look over the edge. "And the emergency fire ladders are kept in the east wing linen closet—which is right above the basement."
Smoke was beginning to billow thicker under the nursery door now, white wisps curling up toward the ceiling. Little Leo began to cough, his tiny face screwing up in distress.
"We have to get out of here, Ethan!" I pleaded, tearing a cotton receiving blanket off the changing table and dampening it with water from the nursery sink. I quickly wrapped the damp cloth gently around Leo's nose and mouth to protect his lungs.
Ethan watched me handle his son with such instinctual care, a look of profound determination settling over his features.
"Follow me," Ethan commanded, grabbing a heavy brass floor lamp from beside the armchair.
He led me toward the far corner of the nursery, past the built-in bookshelves. He reached behind a leather-bound set of encyclopedias and pulled a hidden iron lever.
With a heavy wooden scrape, a section of the bookshelf swung outward, revealing a narrow, dark stone staircase spiraling downward into the internal structure of the manor.
I stared in shock. "A secret passage?"
"My grandfather built this estate during the 1920s," Ethan explained quickly, shining his phone light down the dark stairwell. "It leads directly to the old carriage house behind the garage, completely bypassing the main halls and the basement. It's our only safe way out."
He turned to me, placing his hand gently on my shoulder. "Stay right behind me, Clara. Watch your step on the stone."
We stepped inside the dark, narrow passage, and Ethan pulled the heavy bookshelf back into place behind us, locking out the rising smoke.
The stone staircase was cool and damp, winding down into the depths of the mansion. The sound of our footsteps echoed softly against the brick walls. Leo was quiet in my arms, lulled by the steady motion as I held him securely against my chest.
As we descended to the lower level, Ethan stopped suddenly at a small wooden landing.
He held up a hand, motioning for me to freeze.
Through a small iron ventilation grate set into the stone wall of the landing, we could look directly down into the estate's private study on the ground floor.
The study was bathed in the orange flickers of growing flames near the doorway. Standing near Ethan's massive mahogany desk in the center of the room was Victoria.
She was holding a heavy steel crowbar, violently smashing open the locks on Ethan's private wall safe. Piles of cash, bearer bonds, and legal documents were strewn across the floor around her designer high heels. Her champagne wedding dress was torn at the hem and stained with black soot, but her eyes were wild with feverish greed.
"Where is the offshore key?!" she screamed to herself, wildly tearing through the velvet-lined drawers of the safe. "Where did he put it?!"
I held my breath, clutching Leo close.
Ethan leaned close to my ear, his breath warm against my neck. "The carriage house exit is just twenty feet down this hall," he whispered. "Once we're outside, I'll secure you and Leo in the guest cottage, then circle back with the authorities."
I nodded silently.
We took two quiet steps down the stone stairs—when suddenly, little Leo let out a loud, clear sneeze.
The sound echoed sharply through the ventilation grate.
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Down in the study, Victoria stopped dead in her tracks. She whipped her head toward the stone wall, her wild, soot-stained face twisting into a terrifying grin as she picked up a heavy iron poker from the fireplace.
"I hear you, little baby," Victoria sang out in a terrifying, high-pitched voice. "Mommy found you!"
