Chapter 5 - The Uninvited Guest at Midnight
The sound of tires crunching on the gravel drive wasn't the usual sharp crack of the staff's vehicles or the heavy drone of Victoria's town car. It was heavy, rhythmic, and deliberate—the sound of an unfamiliar chassis navigating the private estate with absolute confidence. Daniel stood up slowly from behind the oak desk, his fingers closing tightly around the silver pocket watch and the micro-SD card. He slipped them into the inner pocket of his black suit vest, his instincts screaming that the perimeter security had just been bypassed.
"Lily," Daniel whispered, crouching down beside the massive leather armchair so his eyes were level with hers. "I need you to listen to me very carefully. Do you see that bookcase in the corner behind the globe?"
Lily nodded, her eyes wide and dark in the dim light of the banker's lamp.
"I want you to crawl behind it. There is a small service door used by the maids. Push it open, walk straight down the brick corridor until you reach the kitchens, and hide in the walk-in pantry behind the flour sacks. Do not come out for anyone except me. Do you understand?"
"Are you coming with me, dad?" Lily asked, her lower lip trembling slightly despite her best efforts to be brave.
"I have to see who is at the door," Daniel said, his voice steady and calm, masking the cold fury building in his chest. "I will find you as soon as it's safe. Go now, quietly."
Lily slid off the oversized chair, dropping the floral handbag onto the cushion. She scrambled across the Persian rug like a frightened mouse, squeezing behind the heavy mahogany bookcase. With a faint creak of aged hinges, the service panel opened, swallowed her small form into the darkness, and clicked shut behind her.
Daniel stood up, adjusting his black tie. He walked out of the library and stepped into the grand marble hallway, his footsteps echoing sharply against the stone floor. The front double doors—massive slabs of solid oak and iron—remained shut, but the heavy brass handle was slowly turning from the outside. Someone had a key. Someone with authorization codes that only the head of the estate or Victoria possessed.
The lock clicked back. The heavy door swung inward, letting in a cold gust of autumn wind that swept through the hall, extinguishing half the wall sconces in a single breath. Standing in the threshold, framed by the pale moonlight of the courtyard, was a tall man in a dark trench coat, his face obscured beneath the brim of a fedora. In his right hand, he held a silenced pistol pointed casually toward the floor.
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"Daniel," the man said, his voice a smooth, cultured baritone that carried a chilling hint of familiarity. "We’ve been trying to reach you about your portfolio for quite some time."
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