Chapter 7 - A Ghost’s Confession
Harrison Alistair looked broken on the screen. The haughty, untouchable patriarch Julian had known was gone, replaced by a gaunt, hollow-eyed man wrapped in a hospital blanket. His hands, gripping the silver wolf cane, were spotted with age and tremors.
"Julian," the recording began, Harrison's voice raspy and choked with regret. "If you are seeing this, Victoria has made her move. You must understand... I never wanted Clara dead. Twenty years ago, the Sterlings held a gun to our family's throat. They staged the nursery fire while I was overseas. By the time I found out Clara had been spirited away by her wet nurse, Victoria’s father had already secured legal control over our assets."
Lyra covered her mouth, tears welling up again as she watched the frail old man on the monitor. "He knew... he knew I was out there."
"I spent twenty years searching for her," Harrison continued on the screen. "And when I finally found her three months ago working in that city diner, I realized Victoria had placed informants around her entire life. If I approached her directly, Victoria would have had Clara silenced permanently. So I waited. I orchestrated this wedding, Julian. I paid for the ballroom, I hired that specific catering firm, and I had the back doors unlocked."
"He set us up to meet," Julian murmured, staring at the screen in disbelief. "He knew the only place Victoria couldn't immediately murder her was in the center of a ballroom filled with journalists and global diplomats."
"The maintenance panel behind the third walnut plaque leads to an abandoned subway tunnel," Harrison’s recorded voice instructed, his breathing growing shallow. "Take Clara. Go to the docks at Pier 42. I have a freighter waiting to take you to international waters where the Sterling warrants cannot touch you. But beware... Victoria’s reach extends far into the police commissioner's office. Trust no one."
The video snapped black.
Julian didn't waste a second. He grabbed an iron paperweight from the desk and smashed it against the third walnut panel. The polished wood splintered, exposing a series of mechanical release levers.
"Help me pull this," Julian grunted, wedging his fingers into the metal frame.
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Together, Julian and Lyra pulled with all their strength. With a harsh screech of rusted metal, the panel popped open, revealing a dark, vertical shaft with iron rungs leading straight down into the cold stench of the city's abandoned transit lines.
As Julian lowered Lyra into the shaft, the heavy steel vault door behind them began to rattle violently with the sound of cutting torches. Victoria's hit squad was breaking in early.
