Chapter 4 - The Hunted and the Million-Dollar Secret
I didn't panic; the years of living under my father's cold, demanding shadow had trained me to recognize a trap before it snapped closed.
I reached out, grabbed the thick manila envelope from the table, and shoved it deep inside my jacket lining.
"We're leaving, Eleanor," I said, my voice completely steady as I gripped the silver keys.
"We aren't waiting for midnight, and we aren't letting him finish this script."
Eleanor’s eyes widened in absolute shock. "Travis, it's a whiteout storm outside, the mountain roads are completely frozen."
"I don't care about the storm, I care about the people holding firearms in the hallway," I replied, moving toward the secondary balcony exit.
I threw open the glass doors, the freezing winter wind hitting my face like a physical slap, snow swirling across the stone railing.
Below us, the historic hacienda was illuminated by hundreds of white candles, the romantic music still playing softly for the guests who had no idea what was happening upstairs.
Two guards in black suits were standing near the main gate, their radios buzzing with short, rhythmic bursts of static.
"The truck is parked behind the old stables, Travis," Eleanor whispered, her teeth chattering as she wrapped a heavy wool coat over her silk robe.
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"If we can cross the central courtyard without triggering the primary perimeter sensors, we have a five-minute window before the shifts rotate."
I held her hand tightly, my fingers locking around hers as we stepped out into the dark, freezing night.
