Chapter 9 - The Escape to the Carriage House
The pounding on the guest suite door rattled the antique brass handle, sending vibrations through the wood and straight into Connor’s spine. Thomas didn't panic; instead, his weathered face twisted into a grim, knowing smirk. He pointed a gnarled finger toward the far corner of the bedroom, where a heavy velvet curtain concealed a floor-to-ceiling casement window that opened onto a flat second-story balcony overlooking the overgrown western gardens.
“She’s got the hallway blocked with her private security thugs,” Thomas whispered urgently, stepping toward the window. “If we go out the front, we walk right into a trap. We take the service trellis down to the gardens.”
Chloe looked down at the sleeping infant nestled securely in her chest carrier, her heart hammering frantically against her ribs.
“Thomas, the baby... it’s too steep, and the wood looks rotted,” Chloe protested, her voice trembling with justifiable fear.
“There’s no choice, Chloe,” Connor interrupted, stepping up to his wife and placing a firm, reassuring hand on her arm. He looked into her eyes with absolute conviction. “If Helen gets into this room and finds Thomas, she’ll make sure none of us see the sunrise. I’ll go first, secure the landing, and catch you as you come down.”
The pounding on the door grew louder, accompanied by the muffled sound of a heavy shoulder slamming against the frame. The old lock groaned, the brass plate splintering slightly under the brute force being applied from the hallway.
“Open this door, you insolent thieves!” Helen’s voice shrieked from the other side, stripped of all her usual polished elegance, revealing the desperate, cornered tyrant beneath.
Connor didn't hesitate another second. He unlocked the casement window, pushed it wide open, and stepped out onto the cold, damp stone balcony. The autumn wind bit fiercely through his blue button-down shirt, but he ignored the chill, swinging his legs over the wrought-iron railing and grabbing hold of the thick, ancient wisteria vine that twisted around the wooden trellis below. With practiced caution, he lowered himself hand over hand until his boots hit the soft, muddy turf of the garden below.
“I’m down!” Connor called up in a harsh, hushed whisper, extending his arms toward the balcony. “Chloe, drop the baby bag to me first, then come down slow!”
Upstairs, the bedroom door gave way with a loud, resounding crash as the frame splintered inward. Thomas grabbed Chloe by the arm, pushing her toward the open window just as the heavy wooden door swung wide open, revealing Helen standing in the threshold with two burly men in black tactical gear flanking her sides. Helen’s eyes blazed with fury as she saw the empty room and the open window.
“Stop them!” Helen screamed, pointing a manicured finger at the balcony. “Don’t let them reach the carriage house!”
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Chloe threw herself over the railing just as the first security guard lunged across the room, her fingers catching the wooden trellis as she slid downward into the dark, welcoming shadows of the garden below.
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