Chapter 29 - The Daughter’s Return
Evelyn held a black umbrella in one hand, her posture impossibly rigid, her blonde hair pulled back into a severe chignon that looked like a coronet of ice. She didn't look like a disgraced fiancée who had been run out of town a week ago; she looked like a conqueror claiming her rightful throne.
As Eleanor and I burst from the scullery doors, Evelyn’s cold blue eyes locked onto us. A slow, thin smile touched the corners of her painted lips.
"Well, well," Evelyn called out, her voice carrying easily over the distant crack of gunfire and the patter of rain. "Mother always said this house was impossible to keep clean. Looks like you've been tracking mud all over the ancestral floors, Aunt Eleanor."
Eleanor gripped her cane so hard her fingers turned translucent. "You treacherous little parasite. You sold us out to Julian. You gave him the security codes to the pantry!"
Evelyn laughed, a crisp, melodic sound that chilled me to the bone. "Sold you out? Oh, Aunt Eleanor, you really are living in the past. I didn't sell you out to Julian—I *hired* him. Julian is just the cleaner. My mother’s ledger contains the offshore routing numbers for every asset the Vance family stole from mine thirty years ago. And tonight, I’m taking it back."
"The ledger is in the vault," I shouted, stepping past Eleanor, my voice dripping with venom. "And Julian already took Miles! If you've hurt my son, Evelyn, I swear to God I will tear this house down around your ears!"
Evelyn’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, her eyes flickering with genuine surprise. "Miles? What are you talking about? Julian was only supposed to secure the house and recover the documents. He wasn't authorized to touch your son."
"He threw him into the trunk of his car twenty minutes ago and headed for the northern airstrip!" I screamed, taking a step toward her despite the armed men surrounding her. "Your little partner is running rogue with my boy, Evelyn!"
Before Evelyn could reply, a blinding flash of headlights tore up the valley road. A sleek, armored Mercedes-Maybach came tearing around the corner at breakneck speed, its tires skidding wildly on the gravel before slamming to a halt right in front of the main porch.
The rear door flew open instantly, and Julian stumbled out onto the wet gravel.
He didn't look like the cool, collected corporate predator who had calmly adjusted his tie an hour ago. His silk tie was gone, his collar was torn, and blood was smeared across the cheek of his pale, panicked face. In his hand, he clutched a heavy leather briefcase—the very one from the underground vault.
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"Evelyn!" Julian screamed, sprinting toward her like a man chased by demons. "We have a catastrophic problem. The airstrip... the airstrip is compromised!"
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