Chapter 3 - THE SECRET IN THE ASYLUM
Victoria didn't call the police. She knew the city’s authorities were in Julian’s pocket. Instead, she teamed up with Marcus to launch an immediate, off-the-books assault on the abandoned Saint Jude Asylum—the place Leo had escaped from.
Dressed in black tactical gear, Victoria broke into the subterranean levels of the decaying facility. The air smelled of damp concrete and metallic chemical residue. As they navigated through dark, rusting hallways, they discovered rows of padded cells.
Inside Cell 104, Victoria found a wall covered in desperate hand-drawn sketches. They were drawings of her face, over and over again, alongside dates spanning the last seven years.
Eleanor hadn't died in the fire seven years ago. She had been kept alive, imprisoned right here.
“Look at this,” Marcus whispered, pointing his flashlight at a desk in the corner. He pulled out a locked leather journal.
Victoria pried it open with her tactical knife. The handwriting belonged to her sister:
“Julian didn't want the empire. He wanted the secret bloodline key. Victoria thinks she loves him, but he set the fire to destroy the original will. He kept me alive to force me to sign over the Vance offshore trust. I sent Leo away today... I hope he finds her before Julian realizes he’s gone.”
Victoria’s tears stung her eyes, but sadness instantly turned into blinding rage. Her entire life for the last seven years had been an orchestrated lie designed by the man who shared her bed.
A loud metallic clang echoed down the hallway.
Heavy footsteps approached. Victoria and Marcus ducked behind a concrete pillar just as four armed men entered the corridor, dragging a struggling boy.
It was Leo.
Behind the armed men walked a figure in an immaculate dark coat.
“Put him back in the isolation unit,” a voice commanded.
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It wasn't Julian.
Victoria gasped as the flashlight beam illuminated the man's face. It was Marcus’s father—her uncle, Arthur Vance—the family patriarch everyone thought was bedridden with dementia.
