Chapter 12: Storm at the Estate
The wrought-iron gates of the Vance estate stood wide open, swinging sluggishly in the howling wind as Julian’s car tore up the gravel driveway and skidded to a halt in front of the grand marble entrance. He didn’t bother turning off the engine; he threw the door open, bolted up the steps, and shoved the heavy front oak doors wide open.
The grand foyer was dark, lit only by the eerie flashes of lightning illuminating the high stained-glass windows. The silence inside was suffocating, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder.
“Elena!” Julian’s voice roared through the empty hall, bouncing off the marble floors and echoing up the winding staircase. “Elena! Where are you?”
No answer came immediately. Julian sprinted up the stairs, taking them three at a time, his heavy coat flying behind him. He reached the second-floor landing and rushed toward the east wing. The door to the nursery was wide open.
Inside, the room was empty. The plush window seat was vacant, the velvet duvet crumpled on the king-sized bed where Paulana had been sleeping. A single half-filled cup of chamomile tea sat steaming softly on the bedside table.
Panic, cold and sharp, pierced Julian’s chest. He turned frantically down the hallway, following a faint sound—a soft, whimpering cry coming from the very top of the service stairs leading up to the high attic storage level.
Julian raced toward the service door, shoving it open with his shoulder. The stairwell was pitch black, lit only by the intermittent strobe of lightning flashing through the narrow gable windows. At the landing halfway up, standing in the shadows, was Elena.
She wore a dark silk blouse and tailored trousers instead of her evening dress, her blonde hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. In her arms, she held a trembling Paulana, who was crying softly, clutching her small pink purse.
“Stay back, Julian!” Elena shouted, her voice shrill and desperate as the thunder crashed overhead. She held the toddler dangerously close to the edge of the open stairwell landing, where the drop to the stone floor below was over forty feet.
Julian froze dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. Every muscle in his body tensed, ready to spring, but he knew one wrong move could spell disaster.
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“Elena, let her go,” Julian pleaded, his voice trembling for the first time. “It’s over. You have the money, you have the estate. Just put Paulana down.”
“You think this is about money?” Elena laughed hysterically, tears of rage pooling in her eyes. “This is about survival! You were going to hand everything over to a bastard child and ruin my life! I won’t let you win, Julian. If I go down, I’m taking your precious legacy with me.”
