Chapter 4 - The Fire in the Archive
Before Victor could answer, a dull, thundering explosion rattled the glass panes of the study windows.
The estate's emergency alarms began to blare, their red strobe lights flashing rhythmically against the mahogany walls.
Frank burst into the study, his sidearm drawn, his face covered in soot. "Boss! Fire in the subterranean archive! Someone detonated an incendiary device in the lower vault!"
Victor moved like a striking predator. He grabbed his tactical sidearm from the desk drawer, racking the slide with a crisp click. "Where are the perimeter guards?"
"The security grid was cut from the inside!" Frank reported urgently. "A strike team just breached the boathouse!"
Celestine didn't look surprised. She sat back in her armchair, adjusting her diamond bracelet with a smug smile. "My father's advance team, Victor. They're destroying the original paper records of Eleanor's trust before you can access them."
Victor looked at Beatrice, his dark eyes burning with absolute, lethal resolve. "Frank, take Aunt Beatrice to the reinforced safe room in the east wing. Keep four guards at the door."
"Victor, no!" Beatrice cried out, reaching for his sleeve. "Don't go down there! It's a trap!"
"Nobody burns my father's house, Aunt Beatrice," Victor said softly, kissing her forehead before turning to Frank. "Go!"
Victor grabbed Celestine roughly by her wrist, yanking her out of her chair. "You're coming with me."
They sprinted down the long, carpeted corridor toward the subterranean stone stairwell. The air grew thick with acrid black smoke as they descended thirty feet beneath the estate into the gray-stone vault level.
Flames were licking the edges of the heavy steel archive doors. Two men dressed in dark tactical gear were stuffing scorched leather folders into a duffel bag near the open safe.
Victor fired three controlled rounds through the smoke with terrifying precision. Two tactical breachers dropped to the concrete floor instantly.
Victor stepped through the smoke, his broad frame absorbing the heat, and grabbed the third breacher by his tactical vest, slamming him against the stone wall.
"Who ordered the breach?!" Victor growled, his face inches from the man's visor.
The breacher choked, gasping for air. "Don... Don Vale... He's already at Saint Mary's Sanctuary!"
Victor delivered a devastating strike to the man's jaw, knocking him unconscious, and dropped him to the floor.
He reached into the burning safe, pulling out a heavy, scorched iron box that had survived the flames.
Victor kicked the iron box open. Inside lay an antique leather ledger stamped with the official seal of the State of New York—and a handwritten letter written in his father's bold calligraphy, dated thirty years ago.
May you like
Victor opened the letter. As his dark eyes scanned the lines of text, his jaw set like iron.
The letter revealed that Celestine's father, Don Vale, hadn't just tried to steal the harbor terminals forty years ago—he was the one who had ordered the car bombing that almost killed Eleanor!
