Chapter 4 - THE MIDNIGHT INTRUSION
The confirmation came at 11:42 PM. Dr. Thorne called on the encrypted line, his voice steady but laced with awe. "Daniel. The results are in. Probability of paternity is 99.99%. They are your biological daughters."
Daniel fell back into his leather desk chair, burying his face in his hands. A raw, broken sob tore from his chest. He was a father. For three years, his flesh and blood had been hidden away, fighting for survival, while he drowned in his grief. The overwhelming joy was immediately swallowed by a dark, consuming rage. Margaret had stolen his wife. She had stolen his daughters' first years.
Before he could process the overwhelming wave of emotions, the heavy oak door of the study burst open. Marcus stood in the doorway, his service weapon drawn, his face a mask of grim professional intensity.
"Sir. We have a breach. Multiple armed hostiles approaching from the lake side. They cut the hardlines and are jamming our cell signals. We are under attack."
Daniel’s blood ran cold. Ethan’s warning echoed in his mind. Margaret wasn't waiting for the morning; she was moving to eliminate the threat right now.
"How many?" Daniel demanded, rushing to the hidden wall safe and extracting his own 9mm pistol, checking the magazine with practiced efficiency.
"At least eight. Professional mercenaries. They’re using suppressed weapons and thermal optics. They bypassed the outer perimeter alarms. We have to move you and the VIPs now."
"Get the girls," Daniel ordered, sprinting past Marcus and taking the stairs two at a time.
He burst into the guest bedroom. Ivy and Skye were huddled together under the blankets, wide awake, their eyes filled with the familiar terror of hunted animals. Daniel didn't have time to be gentle. He scooped both of them up into his arms. "Hold on tight to me, girls. Do not let go, and do not make a sound."
They nodded, burying their faces into his neck.
Marcus led the way down the back servant staircase, communicating rapidly through his encrypted earpiece with the rest of the security detail. The sound of shattered glass echoed from the living room. They were inside.
"Take the underground tunnel to the boathouse," Marcus whispered, ushering Daniel toward the heavy iron door in the wine cellar. "My men will hold the chokepoint at the stairs. A tactical boat is fueled and waiting. We'll extract you across the lake to the private airfield."
"You make sure you make it out, Marcus," Daniel commanded, shifting the weight of the girls.
"Just keep them safe, boss."
Daniel punched the code into the iron door and sprinted down the damp, dark tunnel that led beneath the estate's sprawling lawn. Above them, the muffled, sharp cracks of gunfire erupted. The mercenaries had engaged his security detail. Daniel ran faster, his lungs burning, the weight of his daughters anchoring him to a singular, primal instinct: survival.
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They reached the boathouse. Daniel strapped the girls into heavy life jackets and secured them in the cabin of the high-speed interceptor boat. He fired up the twin engines, the roar echoing over the dark, freezing waters of Lake Geneva. As he threw the throttle forward, the boat tore out of the slip and into the night.
Daniel looked back at the lake house. Flashes of muzzle fire lit up the massive windows. Margaret had sent a hit squad to murder her own grandchildren. As the cold wind whipped across his face, Daniel made a silent vow to the dark sky. He was done playing defense. He was going to burn his mother's empire to the ground.
