Chapter 3 - Shadows in the Estate
The staff quarters of the Vale Estate felt less like a hospitality suite and more like an opulent prison cell. Located beneath the east wing, the rooms were paneled in dark oak, with heavy velvet curtains drawn tight over reinforced glass windows that looked out into the rain-drenched gardens.
A heavy brass lock clicked shut on the outside of our door twenty minutes after we were escorted inside.
"Mommy," Lucy whispered, sitting on the edge of the mahogany four-poster bed. She held her stuffed rabbit tight against her chest, her big brown eyes shining with tears. "Is the little boy in trouble? Why did his father get so angry when I said hello?"
I knelt down in front of her, taking her shivering hands into mine. "Lucy, look at me. I need you to tell me exactly what Matthew signed to you at the gala. Every single word. Can you do that for Mommy?"
Lucy nodded slowly, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "He said he isn't deaf, Mommy. He said his father gives him medicine that makes his throat swollen and his tongue heavy so he can't talk out loud. And... and he said his father locked his real mother in the ground."
My blood ran cold. The public narrative had always been that Victoria Vale, Alexander's brilliant wife and co-founder of Vale Global, had died six years ago in a tragic tragic boating accident off the coast of Martha's Vineyard.
"What else?" I urged softly, trying to hide the terror shaking my voice. "What did he mean about a vault in his head?"
"He said his mother discovered something bad about Vale Global," Lucy whispered, her small fingers moving subtly to recreate the signs. "Something about fake medicines and dangerous weapons being sold to bad men. Before his mother died, she hid the digital key inside a special pattern of signs—a code only Matthew could memorize. He said his father keeps him trapped so nobody else can read the code out of his hands."
It was a brilliant, sick safeguard. Alexander Vale hadn't spent millions on top-tier therapists and speech coaches to cure his son; he had spent millions to keep the boy isolated from anyone who could understand the silent language that held the key to his empire's destruction.
Suddenly, a soft scraping sound echoed from the wall behind the grand fireplace.
I jumped up, grabbing an antique brass poker from the hearth. "Who's there?"
A small, hidden wooden panel built into the servant passage wall slid open an inch. A pale face appeared in the gap. It was Matthew.
He slipped through the narrow opening, his bare feet making no sound on the hardwood floor. He was wearing silk pajamas, his face pale, but his eyes were sharp and focused. He held a small metal key in his hand and pointed frantically toward the ceiling, then made the gesture for Follow me now.
"How did he get out?" I breathed.
Matthew held up his fingers, signing quickly: The old butler showed me the secret servant tunnels years ago before he disappeared. The security cameras don't see inside the walls. We have thirty minutes before Dr. Thorne checks my pulse.
May you like
I looked at Lucy, then at the open wall panel. If we stayed in this room until morning, Alexander Vale would ensure Lucy and I suffered an "unfortunate accident" on our way home to keep his secret safe. Our only chance of survival was to step into the dark.
"Lucy," I said, gripping my daughter's hand tightly. "Hold onto my dress. We're going with Matthew."
