Chapter 4 - THE BLUE BUTTERFLY
The tires of Dr. Hayes’s stolen sedan screamed as Ethan took the sharp curve leading to the Blackwood estate. Rain had begun to fall, slicking the dark roads and matching the cold dread twisting in his chest. He couldn’t go to the tower yet. He couldn’t leave his daughter in the dark. He slammed the car to a halt near the edge of his property, keeping the headlights off. The south lawn was vast, stretching toward a dilapidated Victorian greenhouse that had been condemned years ago. Ethan sprinted across the wet grass, the cold rain soaking through his ruined dress shirt. Through the fogged, cracked glass of the greenhouse, he saw a tiny shape huddled in the corner. “Lily!” He pounded on the thick, reinforced glass door. It was padlocked from the outside with a heavy industrial chain. Lily looked up. Her face was pale, her lips blue from the dropping temperature. She pressed her small hands against the glass, her eyes wide with relief. Ethan didn’t waste time looking for a key. He grabbed a massive stone planter from the garden path, lifted it with a primal grunt, and hurled it against the door. The glass shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. He kicked the frame away and rushed inside. Lily collapsed into his arms. “Daddy,” she sobbed, burying her face in his chest. “It was so cold.” “I’ve got you,” Ethan whispered, holding her so tightly he thought he might break her. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re never going in a dark room again.” He wrapped his dry suit jacket—the one she had been wearing earlier—tighter around her. As he carried her out of the greenhouse, headlights swept across the lawn. A black SUV tore down the driveway, screeching to a halt near the main gates. Ethan ducked behind a row of hedges, pulling Lily close. Three men in dark suits stepped out of the vehicle. They weren’t Ethan’s security. They wore the lapel pins of Victor’s private firm. “Check the greenhouse,” one of them barked. “Victor wants the girl secured before the vote.” Ethan’s mind raced. He couldn’t fight three armed men while protecting a child. He needed leverage. He looked down at Lily. “Sweetheart,” he whispered. “The drawing you put in my pocket. The blue butterfly.” Lily nodded, shivering. “Aunt Nora told me to keep it hidden. She said the butterfly opens the big doors.” “The keycard inside it,” Ethan said. “Do you know where Nora got it?” “She took it from the bad man’s desk,” Lily whispered. “Victor.” Ethan stared at the drawing. He traced the blue crayon lines of the butterfly. Wait. It wasn’t just a drawing. The pattern on the butterfly’s wings was a sequence of numbers. 0-4-1-9-8-2. Ethan’s breath hitched. April 19, 1982. It was Amelia’s birthday. Victor hadn’t just kept Amelia alive to use her signature. He was obsessed with her. “We have to go,” Ethan said, scooping Lily up into his arms. He carried her through the woods, bypassing the main gates, and reached the stolen sedan hidden in the trees. He strapped her into the passenger seat and blasted the heater. “Are we going to get Mommy now?” Lily asked, her voice trembling. “Yes,” Ethan said, his jaw set in stone. “We’re going to tear his kingdom down.” The drive into the city took less than twenty minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. The Blackwood Tower loomed against the night sky, a monolith of glass and steel. Ethan pulled into the underground parking garage. He didn’t head for the main lobby. He used the master keycard Lily had given him to access the private executive elevator. As the doors slid shut, Ethan checked the chamber of his stolen sidearm. He looked down at his seven-year-old daughter. She was clutching her silver locket. “Lily,” Ethan said softly. “When the doors open, I need you to stay behind me. No matter what happens, you don’t let go of my hand.” She nodded bravely. The elevator chimed. Floor 50. The Boardroom. The steel doors slid apart. Ethan stepped into the lavish antechamber. Through the frosted glass double doors ahead, he could hear Victor’s voice echoing through a microphone. “...and with the tragic, sudden disappearance of my nephew, I am left with no choice but to assume full control of the Blackwood Trust, for the stability of our shareholders.” Ethan kicked the double doors open. The heavy wood crashed against the walls like a gunshot. The entire board of directors gasped, spinning in their leather chairs. Victor froze at the head of the table. His smug smile vanished, replaced by sheer panic. Ethan walked into the room, holding Lily’s hand. “You’re right about one thing, Victor,” Ethan said, his voice echoing off the glass walls. “It’s time for a change in leadership.” But Ethan’s eyes didn’t stay on his uncle. They locked onto the woman sitting silently in a chair next to Victor. She was wearing a beautiful black dress, but her eyes were empty, hollowed out by years of drugs and isolation. Amelia. Ethan took a step toward her. Amelia flinched, shrinking away from him. She looked at Victor. “Victor,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Who is that man?”
