Chapter 1 - The Broken Wall
Ethan stared at the fragile woman sitting on the narrow iron bed.
He could not comprehend the pure evil required to lock a child away for two decades.
The Ashfords had dined with him just hours ago, laughing and pouring expensive wine.
All while the rightful heir to their fortune was rotting behind a plastered wall.
"Why didn't the staff notice?" Ethan asked again, keeping his voice to a whisper.
Claire looked down at her pale, trembling hands.
"Aunt Vivian fired the old staff right after the fake funeral."
"She hired private nurses who thought I was a dangerously psychotic relative."
"They were paid handsomely to slide trays through a slot and never speak to me."
Ethan felt a surge of violent anger tighten his chest.
He was a man who solved billion-dollar problems before breakfast.
He was not going to leave this house without her.
"Put this on," Ethan ordered, taking off his thick cashmere coat and wrapping it around her shivering shoulders.
Claire flinched at the sudden warmth and the scent of expensive cologne.
"We have to leave before they wake up," Ethan said, reaching for her hand.
She hesitated, staring at the open doorway as if it were a portal to a terrifying new dimension.
She had not stepped outside this room since she was five years old.
"I will protect you, Claire," Ethan promised, his voice carrying the weight of a vow.
She finally placed her small, scarred hand inside his.
They crept silently out of the hidden room and into the lavish east hallway.
The storm raged outside, throwing flashes of lightning against the antique portraits on the walls.
Ethan guided her toward the grand staircase, his mind racing to formulate an escape plan.
His helicopter was grounded, but he knew Vivian kept a collection of luxury cars in the garage.
Before they could reach the first step, the floorboards at the end of the hall creaked loudly.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the dark corridor.
The blinding beam of a tactical flashlight suddenly cut through the shadows and hit Ethan's face.
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Grant Ashford stepped into the light, holding a suppressed hunting rifle aimed directly at Ethan's chest.
"I really wish you had just slept through the storm, Mr. Hale," Grant smiled coldly.
