Chapter 4 - THE HYDRA'S HEADThe news sent shockwaves through the city. Within hours, headlines exploded across news portals and social media channels:
#VANCEFAMILYHORROR: MATRIARCH ESCAPES POLICE CUSTODY AFTER BLOODY AMBUSH! POISON, MURDER, AND FORGERY: THE DARK SECRET OF VANCE ENTERPRISES!
Armed police officers were stationed outside St. Jude’s Hospital, guarding Ava’s room around the clock. Inside, the atmosphere was suffocating. Ethan hadn't slept in thirty-six hours. He stood at the window, staring down at the rainy streets, a licensed firearm tucked into his leather holster.
"Ethan, you need to rest," Ava said softly from her bed. She was sitting up, practicing moving her toes, trying to reclaim the life that had been stolen from her.
"I can't rest while she's out there, Ava," Ethan said, his voice ragged. "Whoever broke her out had heavy weaponry and inside information about the police transport route. That takes millions of dollars and deep connections. My mother didn't build that kind of criminal network alone."
A soft knock at the door made them both jump. Ethan immediately drew his gun, pointing it at the entrance. "Who is it?"
"It's me, Mr. Vance... Lena," a quiet voice called out.
Ethan lowered the gun slightly and unlocked the door. Lena stepped inside, wearing a dark hoodie over her uniform, her bruised cheek now swollen to a dark yellow and green. In her hands, she carried a thick leather-bound journal.
"Lena," Ava said with relief. "What are you doing here? It's not safe!"
"I went back to the house," Lena said, her voice shaking. "Before the police sealed the entire estate as a crime scene. I remembered that Mrs. Vance had a hidden compartment behind the vanity mirror in her master bathroom. I found this."
She handed the heavy journal to Ethan.
Ethan flipped it open. The pages were filled with Margaret’s crisp, elegant handwriting, detailing dates, bank account numbers, and names. But as Ethan scanned the entries from five years ago, his breath hitched.
"Look at this name," Ethan said, his finger pointing to a recurring signature on almost every transaction page.
Ava leaned forward, reading the name aloud. "Julian Ross."
Ethan’s eyes widened in sheer horror. "Julian... Julian is my half-brother."
"What?!" Ava exclaimed. "Your father had another child?"
"Before he married my mother, my father had a brief relationship with a woman in London," Ethan explained, his mind racing through pieces of a puzzle he had never known existed. "Julian was born out of wedlock. When my father died, Margaret bought off Julian's mother, giving her millions to stay in Europe and never contact us. I met Julian once at a business summit in Geneva three years ago—he runs a massive private security firm called Apex Protection. I thought it was just a coincidence!"
"It wasn't a coincidence," Lena said, her voice dripping with dread. "I read the last page of that diary on the bus ride here, Mr. Vance. Margaret didn't just pay Julian off. Julian has been working with her for the last five years. He was the one who provided the paralytic poison. He was the one who arranged the mechanic to cut Arthur Pendelton's brakes!"
Ethan turned the page to the final entry, dated just three days ago:
'If Ethan ever discovers the truth, Julian will execute Contingency B. The company assets will be transferred to Apex Holdings, and Ava will be disposed of. Ethan will be framed for her murder, leaving Julian as the sole heir to the Vance estate.'
Before Ethan could process the horrifying realization, the lights in the hospital room suddenly flickered and died, plunging the room into pitch-black darkness.
The emergency alarms began to blare throughout the building, their red strobe lights casting eerie shadows across the walls.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! ATTENTION: POWER GRID FAILURE IN SECTOR 4.
Outside the door, the sound of muffled gunshots with suppressors rang out—POP! POP! POP!
The two armed police officers guarding the door collapsed onto the floor with heavy thuds.
"Ethan!" Ava screamed.
Ethan instantly tackled Ava onto the floor, dragging her behind the heavy medical bed just as the wooden door was blown off its hinges with a deafening explosion.
Smoke poured into the room. Through the haze walked four heavily armed men in black tactical gear, helmets, and night-vision goggles. Behind them stepped a tall, imposing man in a tailored grey suit, carrying a silver-plated pistol.
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Julian Ross walked into the room, stepping over the fallen police guards as if they were trash.
"Hello, little brother," Julian said, his voice smooth, chilling, and completely devoid of humanity. "Mother sends her regards."
