Chapter 7 - The Midnight Transfer
The cold night air whipped through the open courtyard of Blackwood Manor as a heavy black van idled near the grand fountain. The rain had slowed to a steady, miserable drizzle, slicking the cobblestones with dark reflections of the security lights. Clara was marched down the sweeping grand staircase with one hand firmly gripped by a security guard, while her other arm held a terrified Leo tight against her side. They were dressed only in their indoor clothes, shivering against the biting autumn wind.
Waiting by the open rear doors of the van was Beatrice, wrapped in a heavy mink coat, her grey updo undisturbed by the storm. Her expression was completely devoid of human warmth as she watched them approach, looking like a queen inspecting cattle destined for the market.
"Get them inside," Beatrice ordered coldly, not bothering to look Clara in the eye. "The private psychiatric facility in upstate New York is expecting two new involuntary admissions before dawn. By morning, your legal guardianships will be permanently revoked under court-ordered incompetence."
"You can't do this!" Clara shouted, trying to pull away from the guard's grip as Leo began to sob hysterically, burying his face in her shoulder. "There are laws! People know we're here!"
"Who knows, Clara? The loyal staff?" Beatrice laughed softly, a dry, papery sound. "Martha is currently resting comfortably in the wine cellar, and the rest of the estate staff were given a very generous severance package and escorted off the property twenty minutes ago. You are entirely alone."
Arthur stepped out of the shadows behind the van, holding a thick folder containing the forged institutional commitment papers. He handed them to the lead security guard with a crisp nod.
"Make sure they don't make any stops along the highway," Arthur instructed smoothly. "And ensure the intake doctor understands that Mrs. Clara is prone to violent delusions regarding company ownership."
Clara locked eyes with Arthur one last time, feeling a profound wave of disgust wash over her. She realized then that fighting physically was useless; the system within this county was entirely rigged by decades of Blackwood money and influence. She needed to survive, to keep her son safe until an opportunity presented itself in the cold, sterile halls of the asylum.
As the guard roughly shoved Clara and Leo into the dark, metallic interior of the van, the heavy rear doors slammed shut with a resounding thud that echoed off the stone walls of the courtyard.
Inside the pitch-black compartment, Clara wrapped her arms around her trembling son, whispering reassurances into his hair while her fingers frantically searched the seams of the van's interior lining.
Suddenly, the engine roared to life, but instead of shifting into drive, the vehicle sputtered violently, coughed twice, and the dashboard lights flickered completely dead.
Through the small glass partition separating the cabin from the driver's seat, the security driver cursed loudly, turning the ignition key over and over again while the engine refused to catch.
May you like
Then, the headlights of three black SUVs swept across the courtyard, instantly blinding everyone with an overwhelming wall of high-beam illumination.
---
