Chapter 8: The Unwelcome Caller
Julian immediately switched off the projector plunging the study into shadows, save for the single desk lamp. He moved swiftly, carefully sliding the microfilm back into its protective silk wrapping and handing it to Maeve.
"Take this, go up to the nursery, and lock the door," Julian instructed in a fierce, urgent whisper. "Do not open it for anyone except me or Mrs. Gable. Understand?"
Maeve clutched the silk-wrapped microfilm to her chest, her eyes wide with fear. "What about you?"
"I’m going to answer the door," Julian replied, adjusting his cuffs with practiced composure. "They cannot enter without a warrant or my permission, but we must not let them suspect you are here."
Maeve sprinted up the sweeping staircase, her soft footsteps silent against the plush carpet. She burst into the nursery, where Leo was sleeping soundly, and locked the heavy wooden door behind her. She slid under the rocking chair, her heart hammering against her ribs as she listened to the muffled echoes from downstairs.
In the grand foyer, Julian pulled open the front doors. Standing on the marble porch were two men in dark overcoats—the same operatives who had interrogated Marcus at the bakery—flanked by a third man wearing an expensive tailored suit and an expression of corporate arrogance.
"Julian," the man in the suit said smoothly, stepping past the threshold uninvited. "It’s been a long time, cousin."
Julian did not budge, blocking the interior hallway. "Marcus Vance. To what do I owe the displeasure of this unannounced visit to my home?"
Marcus Vance offered a cold, calculated smile that never reached his eyes. "Cut the dramatics, Julian. We know you pulled some vagrant children out of a luxury bakery last night. More importantly, we know what their mother left behind."
Julian maintained a mask of absolute calm, his posture rigid. "You are trespassing, Marcus. I suggest you and your thugs leave my property before I call the authorities."
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"The authorities?" Marcus laughed, a hollow, grating sound. "Julian, the authorities answer to the board of directors. We know Clara’s research is in this house. Hand it over, and the girl and her brother walk away unharmed. Refuse, and neither of them will live to see tomorrow."
The threat hung in the cool foyer air, stark and merciless. Julian’s jaw tightened, the restrained fury in his eyes signaling that the chess game was over.
