Chapter 3
The oak door of the guest house hung slightly ajar, spilling a thin blade of golden light across the flagstone porch. Julian approached with agonizing caution, his footsteps muffled by the thick moss bordering the pathway. Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, ready for a confrontation. He gripped the heavy iron tire iron in his right hand, his knuckles stark white against the dark metal.
“Clara?” he whispered hoarsely, pushing the door open wider. The hinges creaked softly.
Inside, the sitting room was completely empty. The television played a muted cartoon, its bright colors casting erratic blue and purple hues across the floral sofa. A half-eaten plate of sugar cookies sat on the coffee table, steam still faintly rising from a small cup of chamomile tea. The room was warm, smelling faintly of lavender and vanilla, but an ominous chill settled over Julian’s spine. They had been here moments ago.
“Clara! It’s Uncle Julian!” he called out louder, stepping fully into the room.
A sharp noise from the adjoining hallway made him spin around, raising the tire iron defensively. Out stepped Mrs. Gable, the elderly housekeeper, rubbing her eyes and looking disheveled in her floral nightgown. She blinked sleepily against the harsh overhead light, clearly confused by the intrusion.
“Mr. Vance? What on earth… the wedding must still be going on,” she muttered, her voice thick with sleep.
“Where is Clara, Mrs. Gable?” Julian demanded, his voice dropping an octave, fraught with barely contained panic.
The housekeeper frowned, finally noticing the frantic look in his eyes and the weapon in his hand. “Why, she was right here reading a storybook. A nice woman in a dark suit came to the door ten minutes ago. Said she was sent by Miss Eleanor to take the little one to the reception for a special family photo.”
Julian closed his eyes, a wave of nausea washing over him. Eleanor had anticipated his reaction and deployed a decoy or an operative to snatch the child while he was still trapped in the grand hall.
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“That wasn't for photos, Mrs. Gable. That woman is taking her away. For good,” Julian said, his voice trembling with rage.
Without waiting for the housekeeper’s panicked response, Julian turned and bolted back out the door. He checked his phone. No service out here in the estate's dead zones. He had to rely on his instincts and the knowledge of Eleanor’s private properties across the county. He sprinted back to his car, throwing the tire iron onto the passenger seat. The game of hide and seek was over. It was time to hunt.
