Chapter 3 - SHADOWS IN THE LAKEHOUSE
The storm raged through Sunday night, the wind howling like a wounded animal. Marcus and his team had arrived within two hours, establishing a secure perimeter. The girls were finally asleep in the master bedroom, dead to the world, clinging to each other in the center of the massive king-sized bed. Nathaniel couldn't sleep. The note burned a hole in his pocket. Take them to their father.
If they were his... if Elise had given birth... why hadn't she told him?
He paced the floor of his study, tearing through old medical records, bank statements, anything from the last two years. Elise had been "sick" for seven months before she passed away. Vivian had insisted on moving her to the private family estate in the Hamptons for "specialized care," barring Nathaniel from visiting often because his "presence stressed her fragile heart." He had been a fool. A blind, trusting fool, too busy running a billion-dollar empire to see the vipers in his own nest.
He walked down the hall to the storage room where Vivian had supposedly boxed up Elise's "superfluous" belongings after the funeral. Nathaniel tore open box after box. Clothes. Books. Shoes. Finally, at the bottom of a box labeled 'Garden Supplies,' he found it: a small, leather-bound journal. The lock was broken.
He opened it to the last entry, dated eight months ago. The handwriting was erratic, terrified.
August 12th. I’m pregnant. Twins. I told Vivian before Nathaniel. She threatened me. She said Nathaniel’s empire cannot be divided by "weak blood," that Julian is meant to inherit the CEO position, and my children will ruin her plans. She said if I tell Nate, she will arrange an "accident" for all three of us. She’s moving me to the Hamptons tomorrow. She says she hired a private doctor. I’m so scared. Vera promised to help me. Vera is my only hope. If you are reading this, Nate, I loved you. I am so sorry.
Nathaniel dropped the book. A guttural sob tore from his chest, a sound of such profound agony and rage that it seemed to rattle the windows. His mother hadn't just hidden his children; she had effectively murdered his wife. She had kept Elise a prisoner, induced early labor, and likely let Elise die to cover her tracks. The "illness" was a lie.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the downstairs kitchen, followed by shouting.
May you like
Marcus's voice cracked over the internal intercom. "Mr. Cole! We have a breach! Armed men, professional. They’re cutting the power—"
The house plunged into absolute darkness. Nathaniel didn't hesitate. He grabbed the emergency Glock from his desk drawer and sprinted toward the master bedroom. Vivian wasn't waiting for the lawyers. She had sent a hit squad.
