Chapter 4 - The Midnight RaidThe revelation hit the estate like a thunderbolt, but the danger was far from over. By 10 p.m. that evening, the rain had turned into a torrential storm. The power inside the Harrington Manor flickered violently before plunging the entire mansion into pitch-black darkness.
“Dad!” Noah cried out from the living room.
“Stay where you are!” Michael shouted, drawing a concealed firearm from his desk drawer. “Security! Status report!”
Silence answered him through the comms radio. Only static hummed through the speaker.
“The main power lines have been cut from the outside,” Emily said, running into the hallway with a flashlight she had grabbed from the supply closet. “Michael, Arthur Montgomery knows we discovered the truth. He won't let us live until sunrise!”
Suddenly, the heavy glass doors of the patio shattered into a thousand pieces. Four heavily armed men clad in black tactical gear burst into the manor, their crimson laser sights cutting through the darkness.
“Find the boy and the woman!” a harsh voice commanded from the shadows. “Destroy the Vance Trust documents! Leave no witnesses!”
Michael shoved Emily and Noah behind a heavy oak pillar. “Take Noah through the servant passageway in the kitchen! It leads to the underground wine cellar and out to the old carriage house! Go!”
“I’m not leaving you, Michael!” Emily protested.
“You spent seven years away from us, Victoria—Emily—whatever name you carry, you are my wife, and he is our son! I won't lose you twice!” Michael yelled over the sound of gunfire echoing through the marble foyer. “GO!”
Emily grabbed Noah’s hand, her motherly instincts overriding her fear. She darted into the dark kitchen, navigating the corridors she had spent three years cleaning every single morning. She knew every squeaky floorboard, every hidden corner, and every shadow of this house.
Behind them, heavy boots stomped through the hallways.
“They went toward the kitchen!” an assassin yelled.
Emily ducked into the butler’s pantry, pulling Noah into a tight space behind a massive floor-to-ceiling cabinet. She placed her hand over Noah’s mouth as light beams swept past the doorway.
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“Come out, come out, little maid,” a voice mocked. It was Arthur Montgomery himself, stepping into the kitchen holding a silver-plated revolver. “You were supposed to rot in that state facility seven years ago. You had to come back and ruin my life’s work, didn't you?”
Noah’s eyes widened with fear, but Emily held him close, whispering in his ear: “Trust me, sweetie. Squeeze your eyes shut.”
