Chapter 3 - THE DOCKLAND SAFE HOUSEThe abandoned warehouse district of South Boston smelled of salt water, diesel fuel, and decaying wood. The armored SUV pulled into a dark alleyway behind a crumbling brick building, its headlights cut to black.
Richard stepped out into the biting wind, instructing his security team to stay with Ethan and guard the perimeter. Accompanied only by Colin, Richard walked up a creaking wooden staircase on the side of the building, stopping at a unmarked steel door on the third floor.
He knocked in a quick, uneven rhythm.
Silence answered. Then, the faint sound of a metal latch slipping into place.
The door cracked open an inch. A pair of sharp, hyper-vigilant hazel eyes peered out through the dark. It was Sarah Vance. In her hand was a heavy iron wrench, ready to strike.
“You brought a lot of noise with you, Richard,” Sarah said, her voice dry and raspy from the cold air.
“They attacked my motorcade on the turnpike, Sarah,” Richard replied, keeping his hands visible. “Your daughter saved Ethan’s life at the airport. I’m not here as a corporate executive. I’m here as a father who owes you everything.”
Sarah hesitated, then opened the door fully.
The apartment was freezing. The only warmth came from a kerosene heater in the corner. In the center of the room sat Mia, sitting cross-legged on a worn rug, dismantling a small electrical circuit board with a screwdriver. Her purple backpack lay open next to a stack of medical journals.
“Mia,” Richard said, stepping inside and bowing his head slightly toward the child. “Thank you.”
Mia barely looked up. “Your boy’s valve is cheap metal, mister. The silver plating erodes under high heat. Tell your engineers to use titanium alloy next time, or he won't make it past eight.”
Richard stared at her, stunned by the sheer technical precision of a seven-year-old child.
“She has her father’s brain,” Sarah said softly, closing and triple-locking the heavy door. “And that’s why they’re hunting us.”
“Who is hunting you?” Richard demanded. “After Marcus died, I tried to reach out to you, Sarah. I offered to acquire the remaining Vance assets to ensure you and Mia were cared for.”
Sarah let out a bitter, cold laugh. “Acquire? Is that what you call it, Richard? Your board of directors didn't offer help. They leaked the false safety reports that ruined Marcus’s reputation! And when Marcus refused to hand over his master algorithm—the neural-link architecture for pediatric organ support—his lab was blown to pieces!”
Richard’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about? My board told me Marcus caused the explosion himself due to volatile storage!”
“Your board lied to you!” Sarah stepped into his space, her eyes flashing with rage. “And someone inside Harrison Dynamics has spent the last seven years trying to wipe out the rest of the Vance bloodline to make sure that algorithm never sees the light of day!”
Before Richard could respond, a low whistle echoed from the alley below.
Colin glanced out the cracked window frame and gasped. “Sir… we have a problem.”
Through the falling snow, three black sedans had blocked both ends of the alley. Men in tactical gear, armed with silenced submachine guns, were fanning out around the building.
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Mia calmly closed her backpack and zipped it up. “They found us fast this time, Mom.”
“They didn't track you,” Richard realized in horror, turning his gaze slowly toward Colin. “They tracked us.”
