Chapter 8 - THE ESCAPE ROUTE"Arthur?" Ryan stood up quickly, frowning at the metal slot. "Why would you help us? You worked for my mother for twenty years."
"Because I have a daughter in college, Ryan, and I watched Julian ruin my own family years ago," Arthur whispered urgently through the hatch. "He’s planning to liquidate all Sterling assets by tonight and flee to the Cayman Islands. If he succeeds, everyone associated with this family—including you—will take the fall for corporate fraud. The escape tunnel leads to the old boathouse on the lake. My car is parked there with fresh passports and burner phones."
I exchanged a quick, decisive glance with Ryan. Trusting Arthur was a gamble, but staying in this stone cell meant certain ruin.
"How do we open the door?" I asked, stepping close to the hatch.
"Look behind the loose stone block beneath the iron bench," Arthur hissed. "There's a manual override lever. Pull it hard. I have to go before Julian's head of security notices I'm missing!"
The sound of footsteps retreating down the stone hallway echoed away.
"On three," I whispered to Ryan.
We rushed to the iron bench, hauled it out of the way, and found the loose stone block. Ryan shoved his fingers into the crevice, grunting with effort as he heaved the heavy stone aside. Behind it was a rusty iron lever.
"Together," Ryan said.
We both grabbed the lever and pulled with all our might. With a loud, echoing screech of protesting metal, the electronic lock on the heavy door clicked open.
We slipped out into the dimly lit corridor, moving quickly and silently like shadows. We navigated the labyrinth of the old basement levels until we reached the heavy oak door of the wine cellar. Inside, racks of expensive vintage bottles lined the walls.
"Arthur said the tunnel entrance is behind the wine rack with the 1945 Bordeaux," Ryan whispered, scanning the labels in the dim emergency lighting.
"Here," I said, spotting a slight misalignment in the wooden shelving.
Ryan pushed against the rack. With a smooth, well-oiled mechanical click, the entire shelving unit swung inward, revealing a dark, stone-lined descending staircase wrapped in cool air and the smell of damp earth.
"After you, Mr. Sterling," I murmured with a faint smirk.
"Lead the way, Mrs. Sterling," Ryan replied, a ghost of his old confident smirk returning to his lips.
May you like
We descended into the darkness, pulling the heavy wine rack closed behind us just as the distant sound of heavy boots and raised voices echoed through the upper levels of the cellar. Julian had discovered our escape.
The race for the Sterling empire had entered its final, most dangerous phase.
