Chapter 15 - THE GATES UNDER SIEGE
At precisely 9:00 PM, the storm reached its zenith. Thunder cracked directly above the manor, shaking the heavy stone foundation.
Suddenly, the lights throughout the estate flickered once, twice, and then plunged into pitch-black darkness.
Instantly, the emergency generators kicked on, bathing the hallways in eerie, low-voltage amber light. Outside, the perimeter alarms began to wail, a shrieking klaxon that cut through the sound of the howling wind and rain.
Marcus’s voice crackled frantically over Daniel’s walkie-talkie: "Mr. Bennett! We have an intrusion at the main gate! A convoy of three black SUVs just rammed through the outer barrier! They’ve disabled the automated gate motors!"
"Engage non-lethal deterrents!" Daniel barked into the radio. "Do not let them breach the courtyard!"
Daniel ran down the long gallery toward the high windows overlooking the circular driveway. Through the rain-streaked glass, he saw the headlights piercing the darkness. Three reinforced Cadillac Escalades had smashed through the wrought-iron gates, their tires screeching as they formed a semi-circle in front of the manor’s grand entrance.
A dozen men in dark tactical gear stepped out into the pouring rain. They were not common thugs; their movements were disciplined, military, precise. They carried crowd-control batons and silenced sidearms.
Then, the rear door of the center vehicle opened.
A private security operative held a massive black umbrella over the figure stepping out onto the asphalt.
It was Victoria Vance-Sterling. At seventy years old, she moved with the predatory grace of an empress. Dressed in an immaculate charcoal cashmere coat, her silver hair pulled back into a severe chignon, she looked like a queen surveying conquered territory.
Beside her, stepping out of the passenger side, was Vanessa.
Vanessa looked gaunt, her cheekbones sharper, her skin pale from years without sunlight, but her eyes—those cold, narcissistic, calculating eyes—were burning with an insatiable hunger for vengeance. She wore high-end designer clothes, clearly purchased the moment she had slipped away from the medical transport.
Victoria looked up at the second-story window where Daniel stood. Even through the torrential rain, their gazes locked across the courtyard.
Victoria lifted a heavy, antique brass megaphone to her lips. Her voice, amplified and crystal clear, echoed across the stone facade of the house.
May you like
"Daniel!" Victoria called out, her tone sickeningly polite, like an aunt greeting an ungrateful nephew at Thanksgiving. "Be a civilized gentleman and open the front door. We have business to conclude regarding your family's estate. And don't make me ask twice. You know what happens to children who don't listen."
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