Chapter 3 - Shadows Over Switzerland
As Adrian sped north on the rain-slicked highway toward Blackwood Lake, his phone rang over the car’s Bluetooth system. The caller ID displayed a name he trusted implicitly: Julian Vance, his Chief Operating Officer and long-time best friend.
“Adrian?” Julian’s voice sounded frantic. “Where the hell are you? Your mother just called an emergency executive board meeting at the corporate headquarters for 10:00 PM tonight. She’s claiming you’ve suffered a nervous breakdown and is petitioning the board for emergency temporary control of Hale Enterprises!”
Adrian gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “She’s moving faster than I thought. Julian, listen to me very carefully. Claire was never in Switzerland.”
A heavy silence lingered on the line for three long seconds.
“What do you mean she wasn't in Switzerland?” Julian asked, his tone dropping into a cautious whisper. “You drove her to the airport yourself!”
“It was a setup,” Adrian snapped, dodging around a slow-moving semi-truck. “My mother had someone else board the plane in Claire’s place using her passport. They’ve been keeping Claire prisoner in the west wing of the estate, drugging her with illegal narcotics. And right now, Dr. Malcolm Reed is holding her at the old St. Jude’s Sanatorium near Blackwood Lake.”
“My God...” Julian gasped. “Adrian, that’s horrifying. What are you going to do?”
“I’m heading to St. Jude’s right now,” Adrian said. “I’m going to drag Claire out of there and destroy everyone involved in this. I need you to stall the board meeting. Lock down the server rooms and freeze all executive wire transfers from the foundation accounts.”
“I’m on it,” Julian promised. “Be careful, brother. If Reed is backed into a corner, he might do something irreversible.”
The call ended. Adrian pressed harder on the accelerator, the engine roaring as the car barreled into the stormy darkness.
What Adrian didn't know was that inside the glass-walled penthouse office of Hale Enterprises, Julian lowered his phone, turned around, and looked across the mahogany desk.
Sitting across from him, sipping a glass of rare scotch with icy composure, was Victoria Hale.
“Did he suspect anything?” Victoria asked smoothly, adjusting her diamond necklace.
“Not a single thing,” Julian replied, a dark smile spreading across his face. He walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink. “He thinks I’m holding down the fort here while he rushes off to Blackwood Lake.”
“Good,” Victoria said, her eyes flashing with ruthless ambition. “Malcolm is already preparing the facility. By the time my dear son arrives at St. Jude’s, he will find a tragedy waiting for him. A devastated husband arriving too late to save his unstable wife from a fatal 'accident.'”
“And the board?” Julian asked.
“The board will receive the fake medical reports proving Claire was terminally ill and delusional,” Victoria said coldly. “Adrian will be framed for negligence and emotional distress leading to her death. With both of them out of the picture, you and I will split the board’s voting control fifty-fifty.”
Julian raised his glass in a mock toast. “To family loyalty.”
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Meanwhile, forty miles away, Adrian’s car tore through the outer gates of the Blackwood Lake reserve. The trees bent under the howling wind, rain lashing against his windshield like throwing needles.
Up ahead, perched on a barren cliff overlooking the churning black waters of the lake, rose the menacing silhouette of St. Jude’s Sanatorium—its broken stone towers rising like jagged teeth against the lightning-lit sky.
