Chapter 5 - Shadows at the Door
By the end of the week, Emma was slowly adapting to her new life in the Manhattan mansion. Under the care of our private pediatrician and Mrs. Gable, the dark circles under her eyes began to fade, and the hollows in her cheeks filled out. Watching her and Lily giggle over breakfast in the sunroom was the first genuine peace I had felt in seven years.
But peace in my world never lasted long.
It was a rainy Tuesday afternoon when Dante burst into my study without knocking—a breach of protocol that instantly set my nerves on edge.
"Boss, we have a security breach," Dante said, his breathing slightly elevated. "Perimeter alarms on the southern gate tripped three minutes ago. But it wasn't a standard break-in."
I stood up, locking my secure laptop and sliding my Sig Sauer pistol into its shoulder holster. "What do you mean?"
"They didn't try to hack the cameras or scale the walls," Dante handed me a ruggedized tablet showing a live feed from the front gates. "They left something hanging on the iron spikes."
I zoomed in on the tablet screen.
My blood ran cold.
Impaled on the sharp iron spikes of the southern gate was a silver signet ring featuring a twisted serpent crest—the exact crest Dr. Harrison had warned me about. And pinned beneath it was a heavy black envelope sealed with red wax.
"Clear the grounds," I ordered instantly, my voice dropping into lethal command mode. "Move Mrs. Gable, Lily, and Emma into the subterranean panic room. Seal all exterior exits. If anyone steps foot inside this property without my authorization, shoot to kill."
"Already on it, Boss," Dante replied, turning and sprinting toward the security control center.
I walked down to the grand foyer, grabbed a heavy wool trench coat, and stepped out into the steady, cold rain. The storm clouds hung low over Manhattan, casting an apocalyptic gray light across the estate.
Walking briskly to the southern gate, I ignored the chill biting through my shirt. There it was—the silver serpent ring glistening with rainwater, mocking me.
With a sharp pull, I yanked the sealed black envelope off the spike. I broke the red wax seal and unfolded the thick parchment inside.
May you like
Written in bold, elegant calligraphy were words that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up:
“Marcus Blackwell, You thought you buried your past, but secrets have a way of digging themselves out of the dirt. You took care of the aunt, and you took in the bastard child. But you missed the most important piece of the puzzle. Grace didn't die of natural causes, Marcus. We poisoned her slow, so she would suffer every second of her lonely exile. And if you want to know why... open the vault beneath the old Westchester estate. Tick-tock. — The Vanguard Syndicate”
