Chapter 3 - DARKNESS IN THE BALLROOM
The sudden blackout sucked all the oxygen out of the room.
For two agonizing seconds, the only sound was the howling wind against the reinforced glass of the conservatory and the collective intake of breath from sixty terrified guests. Then, emergency generators kicked in with a low, heavy hum, bathing the ballroom in an eerie, sickly amber glow.
The glittering Christmas tree in the corner cast long, jagged shadows across the polished floor.
“Stay behind me,” Detective Miller muttered, his hand finally dropping beneath his coat, resting firmly on the grip of his concealed firearm.
Across the room, Matthias was frantically whispering to his father, his face illuminated by the harsh orange light of his smartphone screen. Fiona Vale had retreated toward the bar, clutching a velvet curtain, her mascara slightly smeared.
“You planned this,” I whispered to Miller, my eyes darting toward the armed mercenaries blocking the main doors. “The power outage—was that part of your backup plan?”
“No,” Miller said, his jaw tightening as he scanned the perimeter. “That wasn't us. Someone else just cut the main grid.”
My blood ran cold.
If Detective Miller’s backup team hadn't cut the power, and Arthur Dre’s private security hadn't done it... then who had?
Arthur Dre raised his voice above the murmuring crowd, stepping onto the low riser near the bandstand.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm!” Arthur’s voice boomed, projecting the unshakable confidence of a man who owned half the state legislature. “A localized transformer failure due to the storm. Estate security is handling the situation. The bar remains open.”
Despite his smooth words, I saw the sweat beading on his forehead. Arthur didn't look calm. He looked like a man standing on a trapdoor waiting for the lever to be pulled.
Matthias pushed his way through the crowd, marching straight toward us, his expression twisted with furious desperation.
“Serena, tell your little friend to get out right now before my father has him dragged down to the boathouse,” Matthias hissed, grabbing my shoulder.
I didn't flinch. I slapped his hand away with a force that surprised even him.
“Don't touch me, Matthias,” I said, my voice cutting through the ambient hum of the generators. “Your empire is collapsing around your ears, your father is a criminal, your mistress is standing over there looking like she’s about to throw up, and you’re worried about your social standing?”
“You don't understand what’s happening!” Matthias shouted, his voice cracking. “You think this is just about money? You think Miller is here because of a few corporate spreadsheets?”
“Then enlighten me,” I challenged.
Matthias opened his mouth to speak, but before a word could escape, a deafening explosion rocked the western wing of the estate.
BOOM.
The floor beneath our feet shuddered violently. Crystal champagne glasses rattled off the tables and shattered into a thousand glittering pieces across the floor. Women screamed. Men cursed, scrambling away from the French doors as a thick plume of black smoke billowed against the glass outside.
“What the hell was that?!” Fiona shrieked from across the room.
Arthur Dre vaulted off the bandstand, his face completely drained of color. “The vault,” he whispered, horrified. “They hit the lower vault.”
Miller reacted instantly. He grabbed my arm, pulling me behind a massive stone pillar near the fireplace.
“Stay down, Serena!” Miller ordered, drawing his weapon. “We’ve got a hostile breach.”
“My husband—!” I started.
“Your husband is running toward the smoke because his family’s bearer bonds and offshore hard drives are down there,” Miller said grimly. “And trust me, Serena, those bonds are the only reason his family kept him around.”
Through the haze of smoke and amber emergency light, I watched Matthias bolt across the ballroom floor, ignoring the panicking guests as he sprinted toward the private service corridor leading to the subterranean basement levels.
Fiona Vale tried to follow him, but one of Arthur’s mercenaries intercepted her, shoving her back into a chair.
“Detective,” I said, my heart hammering against my ribs, feeling a sharp contraction in my lower abdomen from the stress. I pressed a hand to my stomach, breathing through the wave of pain. “We have to follow him.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Miller stared at me in disbelief. “There’s an active explosive breach in the lower levels!”
“If Matthias gets to that vault first, he’ll destroy the physical evidence linking his father to the Hensley embezzlement,” I argued, my training as a trauma nurse kicking in, overriding my physical fear. “And if he does that, the federal case falls apart. We lose everything.”
Miller looked at my face, saw the absolute, unyielding determination in my eyes, and cursed under his breath.
“Fine,” he said, grabbing a heavy wool blanket from a nearby couch and draping it over my shoulders. “Stay behind me. No heroics, Serena. You’re thirty-two weeks pregnant. You trip, we both die.”
We slipped away from the panicked crowd, ducking behind the shadows of the Christmas tree just as another muffled thud echoed from beneath the floorboards.
We reached the heavy oak service door leading down to the basement.
May you like
The door was blown off its hinges. Twisted metal and splintered wood blocked the entrance.
And lying unconscious in the corridor just outside the blast zone, bleeding heavily from a gash on his forehead, was Matthias.
