Chapter 2 - The Fire That Never Was
The crimson strobe lights bathed the mahogany walls in an eerie, pulsing glow. Julian instinctively stepped in front of Emma, a muscle twitching in his cheek, old protective instincts overriding his deep betrayal.
""Step away from the windows,"" he commanded, pulling a small communicator from his breast pocket. ""Marcus, report. Why are the perimeter alarms triggered?""
Static crackled over the speaker before a strained voice broke through: ""Sir, several black SUVs just breached the eastern gates. They aren't local syndicate. They're private military. They're heading for the west wing!""
""The nursery,"" Emma gasped, her face draining of what little color remained. She lunged toward the corridor doors, but Julian seized her arm, spinning her around.
""Who are they, Emma?"" he demanded, his grip like iron. ""Did you lead them here?""
""Are you insane?!"" she spat, tearing her arm from his grasp with surprising strength. ""They're here to take Leo! Victoria sold him off the day she faked my death. She told you Leo was adopted from a surrogate because she needed a Vance heir under her thumb, but she never intended to let you keep him once your father’s will cleared!""
Julian froze. His father had died six months ago, leaving the entire Vance conglomerate to Julian on the sole condition of having a legitimate direct heir. Victoria, his stepmother, had presented the newborn Leo just weeks after Emma’s supposed demise, claiming Julian’s frozen samples from before their estrangement had yielded a child. He had believed it out of sheer grief and desperation.
A sudden burst of suppressed gunfire echoed from the second floor.
Julian didn't hesitate. He pulled an antique concealed drawer beneath the grandfather clock, retrieving a sleek black firearm. He tossed an extra clip to Emma, his eyes dark. ""Can you still shoot?""
Emma caught it cleanly, slamming the magazine home without a second's thought. ""Better than you.""
They raced toward the marble staircase as the scent of acrid smoke began to drift through the vents. When they reached the landing outside the nursery, two guards lay motionless on the parquet floor. The nursery door swung wide open, fluttering curtains revealing an open window against the stormy night sky.
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Julian rushed inside, his heart stopping. The crib was overturned. Leo was gone.
On the center of the bed lay a single, neatly folded note, weighted down with Victoria’s diamond brooch. Emma picked it up, her hands trembling as she read the words scribbled in crimson lipstick: A mother should never lose her child twice.
