Chapter 3 - The Restricted Wing
The East Wing of the Vance manor was heavily guarded. Two private security contractors stood at the entrance, men whose loyalty was bought with Victoria’s stolen millions.
At 2:00 AM, the manor was cloaked in heavy, suffocating silence. Julian slipped out of his room, wearing dark clothes and clutching the silver key. Mrs. Gable had disabled the hallway cameras by splicing a looped feed into the security mainframe—a trick Arthur had taught her years ago.
Julian reached the East Wing corridor. He hid behind a marble bust as Mrs. Gable approached the guards, pushing a heavy linen cart.
"Evening, Mrs. G," one of the guards grunted, expecting silence.
Instead, Mrs. Gable knocked a heavy silver tray off the top of the cart. The deafening clatter echoed down the hall. As the guards bent to pick it up, Julian darted past them, a silent ghost gliding over the thick Persian rugs.
He reached the master suite and slipped inside.
The room smelled of antiseptic and approaching death. The curtains were drawn tightly. In the center of the massive canopy bed lay Arthur Vance. He was hooked to a ventilator, a feeding tube, and half a dozen monitors. The titan of Wall Street was reduced to a skeletal, paralyzed husk.
Tears pricked Julian’s eyes, but he forced them back. He approached the bed.
"Dad," Julian whispered, placing his small hand over his father’s cold, frail fingers.
Arthur’s eyes shot open. They were bloodshot, panicked, and darting wildly. He couldn't move his body, but his mind was completely trapped inside the paralyzed shell.
"I know, Dad," Julian said, his voice trembling but resolute. "I found the journal in the kitchen. I have the silver key. Mrs. Gable is helping me."
Arthur’s eyes filled with tears. He blinked twice—a desperate, frantic signal. He moved his eyes to the right, staring fixedly at a massive Renaissance painting of a hunting hound on the far wall.
Julian followed his gaze. He walked to the painting, running his hands along the heavy gilded frame. Behind the bottom right corner, his fingers brushed a biometric scanner.
May you like
The safe.
Julian looked back at his father. Arthur blinked twice again, then squeezed Julian’s hand with the faintest, almost imperceptible pressure. It was a transfer of power. It was a command to fight back.
