Chapter 4 - The Guest Wing Secrets
I stared at my son kneeling on the floor of my hotel room.
His face was battered, his lip was split open, and he was shaking like a terrified child.
A part of me wanted to wrap my arms around him and protect him from the world.
But the logical, hardened part of me remembered the forged signature and the stolen keys.
"Get up, Andrew," I said coldly, refusing to offer him my hand.
Andrew slowly climbed to his feet, wincing in pain as he held his bruised ribs.
"Arthur found out that I knew the confession document was printed on modern paper," Andrew stammered.
"He beat me and threw me out of the moving truck on the highway."
I crossed my arms and glared at the boy I had sacrificed everything to raise properly.
"Why did you do it, Andrew?" I demanded, my voice sharp like a razor.
"Why did you help a cartel boss forge your father's signature to steal our home?"
Andrew looked down at the floor, unable to meet my furious gaze.
"Vanessa told me her family was just in a little bit of financial trouble," he cried softly.
"She said if I didn't help them secure a safe place to stay, they would go to prison."
I scoffed at his pathetic, naive excuse.
"So you decided to sacrifice your mother's safety and your father's legacy for a woman who has hated me since day one?" I asked.
Andrew finally looked up, his eyes filled with a desperate, dark secret.
"I had to do it, Mom," he whispered, his voice cracking with genuine terror.
"Vanessa is pregnant."
The room went completely silent as I absorbed this unexpected revelation.
I was going to be a grandmother to a child born into a violent crime syndicate.
"Even if she is pregnant, that does not excuse committing federal fraud and treason against your own family," I stated firmly.
Andrew shook his head violently, tears streaming down his bruised face.
"You don't understand, Mom," he sobbed.
"The baby isn't mine."
I felt the floor drop out from underneath me.
"What are you talking about?" I demanded, stepping closer to him.
"I found out two days before the wedding," Andrew confessed miserably.
"The baby belongs to a rival cartel boss in Chicago."
He wiped the blood from his mouth with the sleeve of his expensive, ruined tuxedo.
"Vanessa orchestrated this entire marriage to use my name and our secluded estate as a shield," he explained.
"If I try to leave her or expose them, her uncle Arthur promised to murder me and make it look like a tragic accident."
I turned away from him, my mind spinning with the sheer magnitude of the danger we were in.
My estate was not just a safe house anymore; it was a fortress protecting a highly valuable hostage.
"We are going to the FBI right now," I decided, grabbing my coat from the chair.
Andrew lunged forward and grabbed my arm in a desperate panic.
"No, Mom, you can't!" he screamed, his eyes wide with absolute horror.
"Arthur told me that if I ever speak to the authorities, he will execute the contingency plan."
I ripped my arm away from his grip, sick of being threatened in my own life.
"What contingency plan?" I demanded angrily.
Andrew swallowed hard, his face turning a sickening shade of pale white.
"Arthur has dozens of high-grade military explosives wired throughout the guest wing of the estate," Andrew whispered.
"If the police raid the property, he will detonate the entire wing, destroying everything dad ever built."
I stumbled backward, the breath completely knocked out of my lungs.
My husband's irreplaceable books, his life's work, the historical architecture, all rigged to explode.
I looked at Marcus, who was already texting a contact he had in a private bomb disposal unit.
"We can't use the police," I realized grimly.
"We have to get them out of that house ourselves, quietly."
Suddenly, Andrew's cell phone began to ring loudly in his torn pocket.
He pulled it out, and the caller ID displayed Vanessa's name.
He answered the phone and put it on speaker so Marcus and I could hear.
May you like
"Andrew, darling," Vanessa's sickeningly sweet voice echoed through the hotel room.
"If you and your mother aren't back at the estate in exactly one hour, I'm going to start burning your father's antique paintings on the front lawn."
