Chapter 6 - The Digital Vault of HorrorsMy hands shook uncontrollably as I clicked on the video file.
The screen flickered to life. It was a live-feed security camera angle from the estate’s detached underground storm shelter—a bunker beneath the detached guest house that I never even knew existed.
On the screen, my seven-year-old daughter Hailey was huddled in the corner of a cold, concrete room, clutching her bruised knees to her chest. Standing over her on the monitor screen wasn't Gloria or Ethan.
It was a man I had never seen before—a cold-eyed man in a tailored grey suit, holding a leather-bound ledger.
"Who the hell is that?" I muttered aloud, my blood freezing.
Footsteps echoed behind me in the doorway. I turned around to see Gloria standing there, no longer smiling. Her face was a mask of absolute granite, her eyes cold as winter steel. She held a heavy brass paperweight in her right hand.
"That is Judge Thomas Vance," Gloria said evenly, stepping into the room. "The man who has protected our family’s legal interests for forty years. And the man who is currently documenting your daughter’s psychological re-evaluation."
"You're running a trafficking ring," I breathed, the horrific puzzle pieces finally locking together in my mind. "Not just abuse... you hand children over to elite predators who want broken, compliant minds. Ethan’s first wife didn't leave him, did she? You had her committed. Or worse."
Gloria didn't deny it. Instead, a dark, sadistic smile spread across her face.
"Julianne was difficult. Just like you," Gloria said smoothly. "She threatened to go to the FBI with audio recordings. So we let her disappear into the private psychiatric system. By the time anyone looked, her medical records showed severe postpartum psychosis. The courts agreed with us entirely."
"You won't get away with this," I said, backing slowly toward the desk while keeping my hand firmly gripped around my phone in my pocket.
I was streaming.
From the moment I smashed the back door, I had dialed emergency services and left the line open in my back pocket. I didn't just have a dispatcher listening; I had the entire state police cyber-crimes division tracking my GPS coordinates and audio feed in real-time.
May you like
Gloria tilted her head, raising the brass paperweight. "Oh, Sarah. Who do you think is going to stop us? The police in Dublin belong to us. The judges belong to us. And by morning, you won't even exist."
Suddenly, the front windows of the house shattered with a deafening roar.
