Chapter 6 - The Empty Bed
Julian shoved past Victoria with enough force to send her stumbling against the edge of the mahogany desk. He wrenched the library door open to find Mrs. Gable standing in the hallway, her face mottled with tears, her apron clutched tightly in her trembling hands. The opulence of the hallway seemed to mock them, the crystal chandelier casting a glittering, indifferent light over the panic unfolding below.
“What do you mean he’s gone?” Julian shouted, grabbing the housekeeper by her shoulders. “I told you to stay with him!”
“I went down to fetch his warm milk for barely five minutes!” Mrs. Gable sobbed, her words tumbling over one another in a frantic rush. “When I came back, the balcony window was unlocked. The rain blew the curtains inward, and his favorite teddy bear was sitting on the sill. But Leo... Leo wasn't anywhere in the room!”
Victoria appeared behind Julian, her designer heels clicking softly against the floor. Her expression had shifted from cold defiance to a sudden, genuine alarm that mirrored his own. For all her calculating schemes, the boy was still her son—or perhaps, more pragmatically, her ticket to the Vance fortune.
“Did he take his coat?” Victoria asked sharply, pushing past Julian to grab the housekeeper by the arm.
“No, Mrs. Vance! It was still hanging in the closet!” Mrs. Gable wailed. “In this weather, without a coat, he won't last an hour in the East Woods! The temperature has dropped below freezing!”
Julian didn't wait to hear another word. He turned on his heel and sprinted down the grand staircase, his white shirt sleeves fluttering behind him. He didn't bother grabbing an umbrella or a jacket; the adrenaline pumping through his veins burned hotter than any fire. He pushed open the grand double doors of the foyer, stepping directly into the freezing downpour that lashed across the marble porch.
The east gardens stretched out into the gloom, a labyrinth of manicured boxwood hedges and towering ancient oaks that bordered the vast, untamed wilderness of the state park. The wind howled through the branches, tearing the remaining autumn leaves from their stems and scattering them across the wet stone pathways.
“Leo!” Julian roared into the wind, his voice instantly swallowed by the roar of the storm. He plunged off the stone terrace, his leather dress shoes slipping instantly on the muddy turf as he bolted toward the wrought-iron gate that stood wide open, its latch broken as if forced from the outside.
As Julian reached the threshold of the woods, the beam of a high-powered flashlight cut through the dark canopy from fifty yards down the muddy trail. A figure in a black cloak was hurrying through the trees, carrying a small, bundled shape in their arms.
“Stop right there!” Julian yelled, pushing his legs to move faster through the sucking mud.
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The figure paused, turning its head just enough for the flashlight beam to catch the pale, lined face of Martha, who clutched a shivering, unconscious Leo tightly against her chest while holding the light in her free hand.
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