Chapter 6 - THE HOUSE OF SPIES
The study plunged into an icy silence. Vance looked genuinely confused for a split second before masking it with a sneer, but Adrian caught it. Vance didn’t know about the memory card.
Which meant Victoria wasn’t working for Vance. She was protecting herself.
"Lock down the estate," Adrian ordered Marcus, completely ignoring Vance. "Nobody leaves. If Vance tries to walk out that door, break his legs."
Vance spluttered in outrage as Marcus stepped fully into the room, placing a heavy hand on the older man's shoulder. Adrian grabbed Isabella’s arm, pulling her out of the study and into the dimly lit hallway.
"You need to hide," Adrian told her, his voice low and urgent.
"No," Isabella said firmly, planting her feet. "If Victoria has the footage, she’s going to destroy it. It's the only proof we have."
Adrian looked at her, seeing the fierce, unyielding determination of a woman who had run for far too long. "She’s had a ten-minute head start. She knows the house better than anyone."
"Not better than the staff," Isabella countered. "She always takes the service corridors. Follow me."
Isabella darted toward the back of the house, Adrian right behind her. They navigated the narrow, uncarpeted hallways used exclusively by the maids and cooks. They burst into the main kitchen. It was empty.
Isabella moved straight to the large industrial incinerator built into the stone wall—a relic from the original estate, now used for burning sensitive financial documents. The heavy iron door was slightly ajar, glowing orange from within.
Adrian rushed forward, pulling the heavy door fully open. The heat blasted his face.
Inside, sitting on a grate above the flames, was the melted plastic shell of the memory card.
"Damn it," Adrian cursed, slamming the door shut.
Suddenly, a cold voice echoed from the doorway. "It’s already gone, Mr. Vale."
Adrian and Isabella turned. Victoria stood by the pantry, holding a sleek black handgun, her hand perfectly steady. Her usual immaculate bun was slightly messy, her calm demeanor replaced by cold desperation.
"You unlocked the doors," Isabella whispered, staring at the woman who had ordered her around for four years. "Why? Why help Vance?"
Victoria let out a bitter, exhausted laugh. "Help Vance? Vance is an idiot. He wanted the restaurant for the insurance money. But I didn't do it for him."
"Then who?" Adrian demanded.
Victoria leveled the gun at Isabella’s chest. "I did it for my brother. The investigator who ruled it an accident. Vance paid him off, yes, but he found something else in the ashes. He found out your father, Isabella, was going to sell the patent to your mother's recipes to a rival syndicate. He was betraying everyone."
Isabella shook her head. "That’s a lie!"
"Is it?" Victoria sneered. "Your father wasn’t a saint. But my brother got greedy. He tried to blackmail Vance, and Vance had him killed. I’ve spent the last three years in this house, gathering enough evidence to destroy Richard Vance and take his fortune as compensation."
A reversal. Victoria wasn't Vance’s loyal spy. She was his executioner in waiting.
"Put the gun down, Victoria," Adrian said, stepping slowly in front of Isabella.
"I can't do that," Victoria said softly.
Suddenly, the phone on the kitchen wall rang loudly, shattering the tension. Victoria flinched.
Isabella didn't hesitate. She threw the heavy silver serving tray she had been holding straight at Victoria. The tray struck Victoria's wrist. The gun went off, the bullet shattering a row of ceramic plates as Victoria dropped the weapon.
Adrian lunged, pinning Victoria to the counter.
The phone on the wall continued to ring. Isabella, breathing heavily, picked it up.
May you like
She listened for two seconds. Her face went entirely pale.
"Adrian," Isabella whispered, the phone slipping from her hand. "That was my father’s nursing home. Someone just signed him out."
