Chapter 3 - The Broken Trust
The police car sped away from the glittering mansion.
Eleanor sat in the back, her mind racing faster than the vehicle.
She knew she would never survive a night in a jail cell controlled by Victoria’s allies.
She had to escape before they reached the precinct.
The police chief was driving alone, whistling a cheerful tune.
Eleanor noticed the glass partition between the front and back seats was partially open.
She slowly slipped off her expensive diamond heel.
With a sudden burst of strength, she kicked her heel directly through the opening.
The sharp diamond edge struck the chief squarely in the side of his head.
He grunted in pain and the steering wheel jerked violently to the right.
The police cruiser skidded off the wet road and crashed into a thick wooden fence.
The airbags deployed with a loud pop, filling the cabin with white smoke.
Eleanor coughed, ignoring the sharp pain in her ribs.
She awkwardly maneuvered her cuffed hands under her legs until they were in front of her.
She searched the unconscious chief's pockets and found the handcuff keys.
Her hands shook as she unlocked the metal bracelets and rubbed her bruised wrists.
She climbed out of the shattered window into the freezing rain.
She was a billionaire matriarch, but right now, she was just a hunted woman in a torn gown.
She needed an ally she could truly trust.
She ran three miles through the dark streets to a rundown apartment complex.
She pounded on the door of Thomas, her loyal butler who had served her family for forty years.
Thomas opened the door, his eyes widening in shock at her battered appearance.
“Madam Eleanor, what on earth has happened?” he asked, pulling her inside.
Eleanor quickly explained everything about the little girl, the blood by the fountain, and Victoria's treason.
“We must hack into the estate's security cameras to find out where they took the van,” Eleanor said.
Thomas nodded gravely and went to his desk to retrieve his laptop.
Eleanor felt a wave of relief, knowing she had at least one loyal friend left.
She walked over to the kitchen sink to wash the mud from her hands.
As she dried her hands, she noticed a familiar object sitting on Thomas’s counter.
It was a stack of white roses, identical to the ones the little girl had carried.
May you like
Before she could process the betrayal, a heavy cloth soaked in chloroform was pressed hard over her face.
Thomas whispered in her ear, “I am so sorry, Madam, but Victoria pays much better than you do.”
