Chapter 4: The Storm Before the Dawn
The morning of Daniel Harper’s return was met with a torrential downpour. Thunder rattled the thick glass windows of the Lake Forest estate, and lightning flashed across the darkened sky, casting the grand house in an ominous, flickering light.
Victoria was a bundle of nervous energy, though she hid it behind an extra layer of makeup and an icy, authoritative demeanor. She paced the living room, checking her diamond-encrusted watch every few minutes.
“Margaret!” Victoria called out sharply. “Has the afternoon tea been prepared? Daniel will be exhausted from his flight. He likes his Earl Grey ready the moment he arrives.”
“Yes, Madam,” Margaret called out from the kitchen. Her hands were steady now, fueled by a deep, protective adrenaline. She had already coordinated with Lily. The moment the security gates alerted them to Daniel’s arrival, Margaret would distract Victoria by spilling the tea or causing a kitchen mishap, giving Lily enough time to run down the driveway and intercept her father’s car.
The plan was risky, but it was their only shot.
In the scullery, the remaining twenty copper pots sat waiting. Victoria had demanded they be finished before lunch, an impossible task designed to keep the girls trapped downstairs. Lily and Rosie were down there now, the sound of their scrubbing echoing hollowly.
“Lily, my hands hurt so much,” Rosie cried softly, her fingers raw and red from the harsh chemicals and abrasive pads.
“I know, Rosie. Just a little longer,” Lily whispered, looking at the small watch on her wrist. It was almost two o’clock. Her father’s flight had landed at O'Hare at one, and the drive to Lake Forest usually took forty-five minutes. He would be here any minute.
Suddenly, the heavy wooden door of the scullery opened, and Victoria stepped in. She wasn't looking at the pots. Her face was contorted in a mixture of rage and panic. In her hand, she held Lily’s tattered backpack. She dumped its contents onto the floor.
Books, pencils, and a small velvet pouch spilled out. Victoria kicked the pouch, and out rolled the old digital camera.
Margaret, who had followed Victoria down, felt her heart drop into her stomach.
“You little thief,” Victoria hissed, stepping toward Lily. “I went into your room to ensure you hadn’t stolen any of my jewelry, and look what I found hidden under your mattress. What is this?”
Victoria picked up the camera and turned it on. She scrolled through the playback menu until she reached the photo from the night before. The image of her and Veronica standing by Daniel’s safe was clear as day.
Victoria’s face went from pale to a dangerous, mottled red. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? You thought you could destroy everything I’ve worked for?”
“It’s over, Victoria!” Lily yelled, standing up tall, shielding Rosie behind her. “We know about your twin sister! We know you’re trying to steal my dad’s money! He’s going to be home in five minutes, and we’re going to tell him everything!”
Victoria let out a cold, manic laugh. “Five minutes? You think you have five minutes?” She dropped the camera onto the stone floor and stamped her high heel down on it, crushing the plastic and memory card into a hundred useless pieces.
“No!” Lily cried, lunging forward, but Victoria pushed her back roughly onto the floor.
“You have nothing,” Victoria sneered. “No proof, no camera, and no one who will believe a rebellious, grieving child over her devoted stepmother. And as for your father…” Victoria smiled, a venomous, triumphant expression. “He’s already here.”
Right on cue, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the basement stairs. The door swung open, and a second Victoria walked into the room—except this one was wearing a wet trench coat, her hair damp from the rain. It was Veronica.
“The car just passed the outer security gate,” Veronica said, her voice urgent. “He’s alone in the back seat. The driver is ours. We need to act now.”
Victoria turned back to Margaret and the girls, her eyes devoid of any humanity. “Lock them in the old wine cellar. They stay there until the transfers are complete and the sedative wears off Daniel. By tomorrow morning, we’ll be on a private flight to Switzerland, and these three can tell whatever fairy tales they want to the police.”
“You won't get away with this,” Margaret said, her voice shaking but resolute as she held both girls close to her.
“I already have,” Victoria said.
May you like
Veronica grabbed Margaret, while Victoria grabbed Lily and Rosie. Despite their struggles and cries, the two women were fueled by panic and greed. They dragged Margaret and the girls toward the back of the scullery, where a heavy, iron-reinforced oak door led into the deep, subterranean wine cellar—a room with no windows, no cell reception, and a lock that could only be opened from the outside.
With a brutal shove, the three were thrown into the darkness. The heavy door slammed shut, and the sound of the deadbolt sliding into place echoed like a gunshot.
