Chapter 6 - The Trap Closes
Victoria froze, her arms flying out blindly in the dark until she collided with the cold steel wall of the elevator car. Beside her, Maria sucked in a sharp breath, immediately shifting little Leo higher against her chest to shield him.
“Richard,” Victoria whispered, her voice trembling as she stared up at the dead speaker grill.
“You really didn't think it would be that easy, did you?” Richard’s voice echoed through the metal box, amplified and completely devoid of warmth. It sounded less like a husband and more like an executioner reading a sentence from a balcony. “A little late-night stroll through the service corridors in matching black outfits? Honestly, darling, I expected better opsec from my own wife.”
“How... how did you know?” Victoria choked out, pressing her back against the wall as if trying to melt through the steel.
“Motion sensors in the master suite hallway, sweetheart,” Richard replied smoothly, a faint chuckle coming through the static. “You forgot that I had the entire smart-home network upgraded last month. When you stepped out of bed without your biometric ring registering on the bedside sensor, my phone flashed a red alert. And while you were busy playing commando in the nursery, I checked the security logs for the service lift override.”
A low, mechanical hum vibrated through the floorboards as the elevator car began to move again—not downward toward the exit, but upward, reversing its descent and hauling them straight back to the top floor penthouse foyer.
“Bring the baby back up to the nursery, Vicky,” Richard’s voice commanded, the tone instantly shifting from playful mockery to razor-sharp authority. “And tell our dear housemaid to leave her phone and that little flash drive she’s carrying in her pocket right on the console table by the elevators. If you try anything stupid, trust me, the private security team downstairs will be waiting for you when the doors open.”
The elevator car slammed to a halt with a heavy metallic thud.
The doors slid open.
Bathed in the harsh, glaring light of the penthouse foyer stood Richard Vance. He wasn't wearing his pajamas or a robe; he was fully dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his silver-streaked hair immaculate, holding a heavy, black-finished security override key in his right hand.
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And standing directly behind him, blocking the double glass exit doors, were two massive men in dark tactical vests, wearing earpieces and holding heavy-duty zip ties in their hands. Private corporate security. Armed, professional, and entirely loyal to the highest bidder.
“Welcome back home, ladies,” Richard said, stepping forward with a chilling, theatrical smile. “Let’s go inside. We have a lot of family business to discuss.”
