Chapter 6 - The Face at the Gate
I released Victoria, shoving her back against the marble pillars of the foyer, and bolted toward the front entrance. I didn't wait for Mrs. Gable or the confused wedding guests milling near the terrace. I grabbed my car keys from the console by the front door, burst out into the crisp autumn air, and vaulted into my SUV parked in the circular drive.
The tires shrieked against the asphalt as I slammed the vehicle into gear and roared down the winding private drive toward the south gate. The trees blurred past in a rush of golden and crimson autumn foliage. Through the radio, Marcus’s voice continued to snap updates, though the background noise of screeching tires and shouting made it difficult to catch every word.
“Black sedan... attempting to force the security boom... intercept team deployed—hold on, sir, they’ve crashed into the embankment!”
I slammed on my brakes as I cleared the final grove of oak trees and rounded the bend toward the south gate. A black luxury sedan was wedged halfway into the concrete retaining wall, its front bumper crumpled and smoke billowing from under the hood. Two of my security guards had their weapons drawn, pinning a man against the side of the car while a second figure was being hauled out from the driver's seat.
I threw my car door open and jogged toward the wreckage. As I drew closer, the man being held against the sedan turned his head, and the blood froze in my veins.
It wasn't a hired thug. It wasn't one of Arthur Sterling's former associates.
It was Richard Vance—Victoria's brother, whom I had met twice at casual dinners downtown, and whom Victoria had always described as a struggling corporate accountant living out of state.
“Daniel!” Richard yelled, coughing as smoke drifted from the engine block. “Don't listen to my sister! She’s insane! She dragged me into this!”
I stopped a few feet away, my fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. “You were the one outside the East Wing? You were the one threatening my five-year-old daughter?”
“I never touched her!” Richard protested frantically, his eyes wide with genuine terror as Marcus shoved him harder against the metal door. “Victoria planned the whole thing! She told me all I had to do was pick up the bearer bonds from the contact at the catering van and drive away! She said nobody would get hurt!”
“Get hurt?” I stepped forward, grabbing the collar of his expensive jacket. “You sent a threatening text about my little girl while she was sitting in her bedroom! You think you can walk away from that by blaming your sister?”
“It wasn't me!” Richard shrieked, thrashing against the guards. “Check the phone! The text didn't come from my phone! It came from Victoria's burner! She had it programmed to send automatically if she didn't check in by noon!”
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I stared at him, processing the frantic lie—or the brutal truth. If Richard was telling the truth, Victoria hadn't just double-crossed me; she had planned to sacrifice her own brother as a scapegoat if her primary escape route failed. She was entirely ruthless, willing to destroy anyone—family included—to achieve her vengeance and secure her stolen fortune.
And back at the mansion, Lily was still alone in the East Wing with only Mrs. Gable guarding the door.
