Chapter 5: Perimeter Check
The rain had stopped by three in the morning, leaving the asphalt slick and reflecting the bruised purple haze of the pre-dawn sky. I left Maya sleeping soundly under Mrs. Gable’s watchful eye in the cramped apartment, her small chest rising and falling in steady, rhythmic breaths that anchored my racing pulse. I took the crosstown trolley back toward the ridge where the sprawling stone estates overlooked the river, the metal wheels screeching against the damp tracks as we climbed higher into the wealthy enclave.
The perimeter wall of Julian’s property was ten feet of solid granite topped with wrought-iron spikes, but Marcus had shown me the old drainage culvert behind the pump house years ago when we used to clear the autumn leaves before the winter freeze. I slipped through the rusted iron grate, crawling on my hands and knees through the damp concrete pipe until I emerged in the shadowed shelter of the greenhouse, the scent of wet soil and dormant orchids thick in the confined air.
The estate was dead silent. The upper windows of the main house were dark, save for a single amber glow coming from the third-floor study where Julian always worked late into the night, wrestling with the financial reports and corporate takeovers that consumed his waking life. Through the glass panes of the conservatory, I could see the tall silhouette of the marble fountain—the exact spot Maya had drawn in her crayon portrait two weeks ago, capturing the splashing water and the limestone cherubs with surprising detail.
I crept along the gravel path, keeping close to the boxwood hedges to avoid the security sensors, my breath misting in the cold air. As I rounded the corner near the service entrance where the delivery trucks usually idled, something glinted in the pale moonlight near the cobblestone edge, catching the faint reflection of the security lamps overhead.
I knelt down slowly, brushing away a layer of wet leaves with trembling fingers.
It was another small gold button with the delicate raised ivy pattern, identical to the one I had clutched in my palm when Clara threw me out into the rain.
My fingers brushed the cold metal. It had been torn from Julian’s sleeve during the altercation in the foyer—or perhaps earlier, during the argument he had with Clara before I was summoned upstairs to face their public wrath. It was a physical tether, undeniable proof that the immaculate, untouchable wall they projected to the world was already fracturing from the inside out, exposing the rot beneath the polished stone.
May you like
From the second-story balcony overhead, a heavy mahogany door clicked open against the stone frame.
I froze instantly, pressing my back flat against the rough stone wall of the conservatory, holding my breath as the sharp sound of measured footsteps echoed across the stone terrace above. Shadows shifted in the moonlight, and I knew I had mere seconds to disappear into the dark before the guards made their next sweep.
