Chapter 3 - The Storm Breaks
The peaceful interlude did not last.
Two days later, Dr. Evelyn Harper arrived at the mansion, her expression a mix of bewilderment and cautious hope. She spent an hour running tests on the twins, checking their vitals, and drawing blood samples.
Vincent waited in the hallway, pacing like a caged panther. Grace stood nearby, leaning against the wall, her expression calm but her fingers tightly interlaced.
When Dr. Harper finally stepped out, she looked stunned.
"I don't know how to explain this, Vincent," she said, shaking her head. "Their white blood cell count is stabilizing. The inflammation in their lungs has decreased by forty percent. Their bodies... they are actually responding to the residual medication they were rejecting last week."
"Are they out of danger?" Vincent demanded, stepping closer.
"No," Harper said honestly. "They are still very fragile. But they are no longer actively dying. Their vitals are stable enough that we can safely transport them to the experimental facility in San Diego. The specialist there, Dr. Vance, has agreed to fast-track them because of this sudden turnaround. But Vincent... we have to move them within the next twenty-four hours while this window of stability is open."
Vincent felt a wave of relief so intense it made him dizzy. He looked at Grace, who had a soft, tearful smile on her face.
"We'll leave tonight," Vincent decided. "I'll arrange a private transport. Secure, heavily guarded."
"I'll help them pack," Grace said, immediately turning toward the room.
But as she reached for the handle, the mansion’s alarms began to blare.
The high-pitched wail echoed through the concrete corridors. Red emergency lights flickered on, casting a bloody glow across the walls.
Vincent’s instincts kicked in instantly. He drew his concealed firearm, pulling Grace back behind him.
"Mason!" Vincent roared into his earpiece. "Report!"
Static crackled, followed by Mason’s panicked voice. “Boss! We've got a breach! Multiple armed vehicles entered through the south gate. They bypassed the security codes—someone leaked the frequency! It's Moretti’s men! They aren't here to steal; they're here to take the twins!”
Vincent’s heart froze. His children. His vulnerable, healing children.
"Get to the secure bunker under the east wing," Vincent ordered Mason. "I'm securing the twins."
He turned to Grace, his eyes burning with a fierce, protective rage. "Take the children. Go through the servant’s passage in the back of their closet. It leads to the basement level. Do not stop for anything. Do you hear me?"
Grace’s face was pale, but her blue eyes were steady. She didn't scream. She didn't panic.
"I won't let anyone touch them, Vincent," she said. It was the first time she had used his first name, and it carried the weight of a solemn vow.
"Go!" Vincent commanded.
He slammed the door to the twins' room behind them, turning to face the hallway just as the first wave of armed intruders rounded the corner.
The mansion, once a sanctuary of grief, turned into a warzone. Gunfire shattered the expensive glass chandeliers, raining crystals onto the marble floors. Vincent moved with deadly precision, his rage fueling every shot. He was a man fighting for the lives of his children, and there was nothing more dangerous on earth.
Meanwhile, inside the room, Grace didn't waste a second. She gathered Noah and Lily into her arms, ignoring their whimpers of fear.
"It's just a game, sweethearts," she whispered, her voice incredibly calm despite the thunder of gunfire outside. "We're playing hide and seek. We have to be very, very quiet, okay? Like little mice."
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Noah nodded, tears welling in his eyes, while Lily buried her face in Grace’s shoulder.
Grace pushed open the heavy oak doors of the closet, sliding the false back panel open to reveal the narrow, dark servant’s passage. She ushered the children inside, closing the panel behind them just as the door to the bedroom was blown off its hinges.
