Chapter 7 - The Evidence
I instantly positioned my body over Clara and our newborn son, ready to take a bullet to protect them.
I waited for the deafening crack of a suppressed rifle, but the shot never came.
The bright flashlight slowly lowered to the ground, revealing a frail, homeless veteran dressed in tattered army fatigues.
He apologized for scaring us, explaining that he used the tunnels to avoid the harsh winter cold.
The veteran had heard Clara screaming and had come down the maintenance corridor to see if someone needed medical help.
Elias breathed a massive sigh of relief, recognizing the man from a local soup kitchen he occasionally volunteered at.
The veteran showed us a hidden service ladder that led directly up into the secure garage of a downtown commercial building.
Once we were safely hidden in the warm, abandoned security office of the garage, I checked the clock on the wall.
It was exactly ten o'clock at night, leaving only two hours until Clara legally inherited her father's empire.
I realized that keeping Clara alive was only half the battle; we still needed to destroy the Vales before they could try again.
Clara told me that her father’s original, unaltered will was locked inside a hidden wall safe in Helena’s private study.
If I could secure that document and hand it over to the FBI, the entire Vale family would instantly lose everything.
I kissed my wife, stroked my sleeping son's cheek, and promised them I would return before midnight.
I borrowed the veteran's dark jacket, slipped out of the garage, and stole a parked motorcycle to cross the city undetected.
I arrived at the sprawling Vale estate, completely bypassing the exterior security by climbing a massive oak tree near the balcony.
I quietly shattered the glass of the study window and slipped into the luxurious, mahogany-lined room.
I found the hidden safe behind an oil painting, quickly entering the combination Clara had provided.
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The heavy steel door clicked open, but there was absolutely nothing inside the velvet-lined box.
Suddenly, the bright overhead lights snapped on, and the cold, metallic barrel of a revolver pressed directly against the back of my skull.
