Chapter 16 - The Escape Plan
Harper waited until the grandfather clock in the distant hallway chimed three times, signaling the dead of night.
During her first miserable week trapped inside the estate, she had obsessively memorized the patrol routes of the armed guards outside her window.
She knew the security team changed shifts precisely at three-fifteen, leaving a lethal ninety-second blind spot in the courtyard below.
She quietly tore the heavy silk bedsheets into long, sturdy strips, knotting them together with desperate, bleeding fingers.
She tied one end securely to the massive cast-iron radiator beneath the window and threw the rest of the makeshift rope out into the freezing rain.
Harper did not hesitate.
She climbed out onto the slippery stone ledge, the harsh wind whipping her wet hair violently across her face.
She descended the side of the towering mansion, her muscles screaming in agony as she dangled three stories above the concrete courtyard.
She dropped the last ten feet into the manicured hedges just as the heavy boots of the replacement guards rounded the corner.
Harper held her breath, pressing herself deep into the muddy thorns until the men passed by without looking down.
She crawled through the freezing mud, utilizing the same underground maintenance tunnel Simon had tried to use to kidnap her.
She emerged into the dense, dark woods surrounding the property, shivering uncontrollably in the torrential downpour.
She hiked for two agonizing hours through the muddy terrain until she reached the deserted highway leading back into the city.
She managed to flag down a tired, unsuspecting truck driver, convincing him to drop her off near the industrial district.
Harper knew exactly where Eleanor Vance would be hiding to direct her hostile takeover of the underworld.
It was an abandoned, rotting cathedral on the edge of the docks, the same church where her mother used to take her to light candles for the dead.
She pushed open the heavy, groaning wooden doors of the cathedral, stepping into the cavernous, dimly lit sanctuary.
Dozens of heavily armed mercenaries immediately raised their laser-sighted assault rifles, targeting her chest.
Harper did not flinch, nor did she raise her hands in surrender.
She walked straight down the center aisle, staring directly at the altar.
Sitting gracefully in the front pew, wearing a tailored black trench coat and smoking a long cigarette, was her mother.
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Eleanor turned around slowly, a faint, proud smile touching her lips.
She told her soldiers to lower their weapons, welcoming her daughter to the family business.
