Part 6: The Discovery
The sound froze both of us in our tracks. The color drained entirely from my mother’s face, leaving her looking suddenly old and frail against the dark wainscoting of the hallway.
"Did you hear that?" I whispered, my gaze fixed on the locked door.
Without waiting for an answer, I threw my shoulder against the heavy wood. The first impact rattled the frame, sending dust cascading from the lintel. My mother lunged forward, grabbing my arm with surprising strength.
"Arthur, no! You don't understand—" she cried out, her voice cracking with genuine panic.
"Get off me!" I roared, throwing her grip aside. I backed up a step and slammed my shoulder into the door a second time.
With a deafening crack, the brass strike plate splintered, and the door flew inward, crashing against the wall of the control room.
The room was dimly lit, the bank of monitors glowing against the back wall, displaying live feeds of the estate gates, the courtyard, and the perimeter walls. But it wasn't the screens that caught my attention. Bound securely to a heavy metal chair in the center of the room was Elena, a gag tied tightly around her mouth, her eyes wide with terror.
And huddled in the corner near the server racks, trembling violently and clutching her swollen stomach, was Claire.
"Claire!" I gasped, dropping to my knees beside her in an instant.
She looked up, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, her breath coming in ragged gasps. When she saw my face, she threw her arms around my neck, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Arthur... oh, thank God... Arthur, they locked me in here..." she choked out, burying her face in my shoulder.
I held her tightly, feeling the familiar warmth of her body and the unmistakable movement of our unborn baby pressing against us. The immense wave of relief that flooded my system was instantly replaced by a blinding fury. I gently helped her to her feet, supporting her weight as I turned back toward the doorway.
My mother stood in the threshold, her hands clasped tightly together, her eyes darting between Claire, Elena, and the shattered door. The mask of calm authority was completely gone, replaced by a desperate, trapped look.
"You locked her in here," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, laden with a cold, terrifying wrath. "You locked my pregnant wife in a security room."
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"Arthur, let me explain," my mother stammered, taking a step back as I guided Claire toward the safety of the hallway. "It wasn't... she was trying to leave—she was threatening to take the child away from the estate—"
"Shut up," I snarled, cutting her off completely. "We are leaving right now. And when the police arrive, you can explain your 'administrative assistant' and your kidnapping plot to them."
