Chapter 10: The Phantom Escape
"She's early," Sarah hissed, her eyes darting toward the heavy study doors as the sound of footsteps grew distinct and uncomfortably close.
"Grab the primary ledger and the flash drive," I ordered in a low, urgent whisper, snapping the portable scanner shut and shoving it into my coat pocket. I grabbed the master hard-copy notebook containing the signed extortion affidavits, slipping it beneath my arm just as the brass door handle began to turn. The heavy oak portal swung inward, bathing the room in harsh hallway light. For a fraction of a second, the doorway remained empty, the shadows playing tricks on our nerves, but then a slender figure stepped into the threshold.
It wasn't Eleanor. It was the blonde woman in the gold dress from the gala—Eleanor's chief enforcer, whose name I now knew from the files to be Victoria Vance-Hallowell, her ruthless niece and foundation director. Victoria stopped dead in her tracks, her champagne-gold satin gown rustling as her eyes widened in utter disbelief at the sight of us standing by the open safe.
"What are you doing in here?" Victoria demanded, her voice dropping into a sharp, venomous hiss as she reached toward the wall-mounted intercom button to trigger the estate alarm.
I didn't hesitate. I lunged forward across the Persian rug, slamming my palm against the intercom panel just as her finger brushed the plastic, cutting the circuit with a harsh electrical pop. Victoria gasped, stumbling backward against the doorframe, her aristocratic composure cracking into pure panic. Sarah didn't flinch; she stepped around the desk with cold, measured grace, looking her former tormentor dead in the eye without a trace of the fear she had carried for years.
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"Tell Eleanor her time is up," Sarah said quietly, her voice ringing with an authority that left Victoria speechless.
I grabbed Sarah's hand, pulling her toward the private balcony exit that led down to the rear gardens via an ornate wrought-iron spiral staircase. We burst through the glass French doors into the freezing morning mist, leaving Victoria shouting into the empty study. We scrambled down the iron steps, our boots pounding against the damp grass as we sprinted toward the perimeter hedge where the getaway car waited with its engine idling in the dark.
