Chapter 6 - Reclamation
The black-iron gates of Eleanor’s sprawling Mercer Island estate stood open, abandoned in the rush of her arrest. Marcus drove his SUV straight up the crushed-stone driveway, parking right beside the empty fountain where Eleanor loved to pose for society magazine spreads.
We didn't wait for anyone to answer the doorbell. Marcus used his old family master key—which he had kept hidden in his glove box for five years—to unlock the heavy mahogany front door.
"Leo! Maya!" I called out, running into the grand foyer.
A startled middle-aged woman—Eleanor’s longtime live-in housekeeper, Mrs. Gable—came rushing out of the kitchen, holding a dish towel, her eyes wide with shock. "Mrs. Vance? The police were here, they said Mrs. Vance was arrested, but—"
"Where are my children?" I demanded, my voice cutting through her words like a knife.
"Upstairs, in the red guest suite," Mrs. Gable stammered, raising her hands defensively. "They... they've been crying for hours. Mrs. Eleanor locked them in after lunch, told them you weren't coming back."
I didn't wait to hear another word. I sprinted up the sweeping curved staircase, taking the steps three at a time. Marcus trailed closely behind me to ensure the path was clear.
I reached the heavy oak door of the red guest suite. It had a brass keyhole, but no key was in it. Without thinking, I backed up two steps, raised my boot, and kicked the door right beside the handle with all the adrenaline and rage I had stored up over the last twenty-four hours.
Crack!
The brass latch plate splintered away from the frame, and the door flew inward, crashing against the interior wall.
Sitting together on the edge of a massive, queen-sized four-poster bed were Leo and Maya. Maya was curled into a tight ball, sobbing silently into a stuffed rabbit, while Leo sat protectively in front of her, his little face flushed and tear-stained.
When the door crashed open, Leo flinched, throwing his arm out in front of his sister. But as soon as his eyes locked onto mine, the defensive posture melted away entirely.
"Mommy?!" Leo gasped, scrambling across the mattress.
"Mommy!" Maya wailed, launching herself off the bed.
I dropped to my knees just as they reached me, wrapping my arms around both of them so hard and tight that it hurt. Sobs wracked my small children’s bodies, and hot tears soaked into the shoulders of my jacket. I buried my face in Leo’s soft hair, breathing in the scent of him—soap, peanut butter, and pure, innocent childhood—realizing with overwhelming gratitude that they were safe, they were whole, and no one would ever take them from me again.
"I've got you," I whispered over and over, rocking them back and forth on the plush rug of Eleanor’s opulent prison. "Mommy is here. We are going home. Nobody is ever hurting us again."
May you like
Marcus stood in the doorway, leaning against the splintered frame, wiping a stray tear from his cheek with the back of his hand. "I'll go downstairs and call the pediatrician's office for a check-up," he said softly. "Take your time, Clara."
Ten minutes later, carrying Maya in my arms while Leo held my hand tightly, we walked out of the Mercer Island mansion for the very last time. As we drove across the bridge back toward Seattle, the afternoon sun finally broke through the gray clouds, casting a warm, golden glow over the sparkling waters of Lake Washington.
