Chapter 3 - The Ghost of Blackthorn
The descent through the narrow stone shaft was a nightmare of pain and cold sweat. Every step sent sharp waves of agony up my spine. By the time my feet hit the damp stone floor of the lower wine cellar, my dress was ruined, covered in soot, grease, and dark blood.
The cellars were dark, smelling of oak barrels, wet lime, and centuries of dust. Above me, muffled thuds echoed as the upper levels of Blackthorn House continued to burn.
I leaned against a stone pillar, gasping, when a sudden beam of light cut through the shadows.
I froze, pressing myself into the darkness between two massive wine casks.
"Mara?" a raspy, blood-choked voice whispered from the gloom.
A shadow dragged itself across the flagstones. It was Aaron Pike.
His suit jacket was gone, his white shirt soaked in dark blood from a gunshot wound near his left shoulder. He was holding a small silver briefcase in his right hand.
"Aaron!" I rushed forward as fast as my body would allow, dropping to my knees beside him.
"You... you made it out," Aaron coughed, his hand trembling as he reached up to touch my face. "I thought... Victor said they had you..."
"Victor is a traitor," I whispered fiercely, pressing a handful of my torn skirt against his shoulder wound. "He orchestrated the attack. He re-routed the security detail so the mercenaries could breach the east wing."
Aaron let out a bitter, raspy laugh. "It wasn't just Victor, Mara... look inside the case."
He slid the silver briefcase toward me. It was unlocked.
I opened it. Inside were three items: a high-capacity encrypted hard drive, a thick ledger stamped with the Cole family crest, and an original copy of my father’s will.
"Adrien knew..." Aaron rasped, his eyes wide and bloodshot in the dim torchlight. "He didn't order the attack, but he signed the financial transfers yesterday morning. Simone needed three hundred million dollars from your father’s estate trust to cover their offshore liabilities. But the trust only unlocks if you die... or if you're declared permanently incapacitated."
The cellar seemed to spin around me.
Adrien hadn't just abandoned me to save his mistress. He had signed off on a financial restructuring that required my removal. He had allowed Victor to create a "security breach" so he would have plausible deniability when my body was found in the ash of the third floor.
"He chose her... because she had the offshore accounts," I whispered, the final piece of the terrifying puzzle falling into place.
"He thinks you're dead, Mara," Aaron coughed, his breathing becoming shallow and wet. "The fire department is outside now. Half the mansion is gone... You have to leave. You have to go before Victor’s men sweep the grounds."
"I'm not leaving you, Aaron!"
"You have to," he demanded, his hand gripping my wrist with terrifying strength. "My brother... he has an ambulance parked at the north gate service road. He’s a tactical paramedic... he knows what to do. Go to him!"
He shoved a small brass key into my hand.
"Take the hard drive," Aaron whispered, his head falling back against the stone pillar. "Expose them all... protect your son."
"Aaron! Stay with me!"
His eyes closed, his breathing slowing to a faint flutter.
May you like
Outside the cellar grates, sirens wailed into the autumn night.
Another intense contraction slammed into my body. I stood up, clutching the silver briefcase to my chest, and stumbled through the damp tunnels toward the north gate, leaving my old life—and the husband who had condemned me—behind in the burning ruins of Blackthorn House.
