Chapter 4 - Under the Floorboards
“Down!” Julian barked, lunging forward and slamming his body into Richard and Claire.
The explosion in the ceiling above the stairs was not deafening, but the concussive force sent drywall, splintered banisters, and blinding dust showering down across the foyer. The high-end lighting cut out completely, plunging the mansion into total darkness save for the flickering amber emergency beacons lining the baseboards.
Liam shrieked in terror, the noise muffled against Claire’s chest as Julian shielded both of them with his broad back. Shards of plaster rained down on them like hail. Richard scrambled to his feet instantly, pulling Julian and Claire further into the fortified interior of the study.
“She’s detonating the fail-safes,” Julian coughed, brushing white dust from his hair. “She knew this house was wired. When our father built the property, he installed auxiliary access tunnels beneath the wine cellar in case of corporate kidnapping. Evelyn found the architectural blueprints three months after I disappeared.”
“Why blow the stairs?” Richard demanded, checking Liam’s face for cuts. The toddler was terrified but unharmed, clinging fiercely to Claire’s collar.
“To trap us on the ground floor while she accesses the server vault in the basement,” Julian answered grimly. “The master drive containing the unedited security logs from the last five years is down there. If she wipes it, every financial transaction, every forged signature, and every staged accident disappears into static.”
Claire stepped forward, her voice surprisingly steady despite the ringing in her ears. “There’s another way down. The old laundry chute behind the kitchen pantry drops directly into the utility room next to the cellar. It was sealed with plywood when they renovated, but the screws are rusted.”
Both brothers turned to look at the young nanny.
“How do you know that?” Richard asked.
“Because three weeks ago, I heard footsteps beneath the floorboards while putting Liam down for his nap,” Claire replied, meeting Richard’s gaze. “I thought it was rats. But when I checked the pantry wall, someone had already removed two screws from the grate.”
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A distant engine roared to life beneath them—the deep, vibrating hum of the mansion’s industrial backup generator engaging manually.
“She’s wiping the servers now,” Julian said.
