Chapter 5
The world outside the library door seemed to vanish as adrenaline flooded Mark’s system. Without a second thought for the files or the trapped intruder, he bolted past Vivienne, his boots pounding furiously against the hardwood floors. The diversion was clear now; the midnight perimeter alarm had been intentionally tripped by an accomplice to draw him away from the family quarters on the upper level. He took the grand staircase three steps at a time, his breath coming in ragged gasps, the heavy security pistol gripped so tightly in his fist that his knuckles turned stark white.
Reaching the second-floor landing, he sprinted down the corridor toward the nursery. The door stood wide open, the warm light from the bedside lamp spilling out into the darkened hallway. Mark rushed into the room, his weapon raised, scanning every corner for a threat.
The bed was empty. The quilt was tossed aside, and the small pillow bore the indentation of Julian’s head, but the boy was gone.
"Clara!" Mark shouted, his voice cracking with a raw, desperate panic that he had not felt in years.
There was no immediate answer. The oppressive silence of the mansion felt mocking. Mark rushed to the adjoining bathroom, then checked the walk-in wardrobe, finding nothing. As he stepped back into the nursery, a faint groan came from behind the heavy velvet armchair near the window. Mark dropped to his knees and found Clara slumped against the floorboards, her hands loosely tied behind her back with a silk tie, and a piece of medical tape pressed over her mouth.
Mark immediately ripped the tape away and worked furiously at the knot on the silk tie, freeing her wrists. Clara gasped for air, coughing softly as she rubbed her circulation back.
"Mr. Sterling... I'm so sorry," she choked out, tears finally breaking through her professional composure. "A man... he wore a dark mask. He slipped in through the terrace door while I was checking the hallway. I tried to block the door, but he struck me from behind. They took Master Julian."
"Which way?" Mark demanded, his voice dangerously low as he hauled the maid to her feet.
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"Toward the service elevator... they have access to the underground garage," Clara said, her voice trembling violently.
Mark didn't hesitate. He knew the architectural layout of the estate better than anyone. While the main elevators required high-level security clearance, the old service lift ran on a mechanical override system that connected directly to the private perimeter road. He didn't wait for the police; he was going after his son himself. As he ran toward the service corridor, he realized the depth of the conspiracy. This wasn't merely about corporate extortion or stolen trust funds anymore. They were using his own flesh and blood as leverage to force his complete capitulation. The gloves were off, and Mark Sterling was ready to burn his own empire to the ground to get his boy back.
