Chapter 10: The Eyes Inside the Mansion
The security monitor flickered.
One camera feed.
Black and white.
Grainy.
Yet unmistakably live.
Bellarosa Manor.
Vincent's own home.
No one spoke.
Daniel slowly backed away from the computer.
"I disconnected every network."
Marco looked at the cables.
"He did."
"There shouldn't be any outside connection."
Yet the image continued streaming.
Emma's bedroom.
Empty.
The hallway.
The staircase.
The kitchen.
The camera switched on its own.
Someone wasn't merely watching.
Someone was choosing what Vincent saw.
A line of text suddenly appeared across the bottom of the screen.
GOOD EVENING, MR. MORETTI.
Another line followed.
YOU ARE LOOKING IN THE WRONG DIRECTION.
The video froze.
Then displayed a countdown.
03:00
Three minutes.
Marco immediately shouted,
"Evacuate the mansion!"
Every guard sprang into action.
Children were rushed through emergency exits.
Medical staff grabbed supplies.
Maria carried Ava while Emma led Noah, Lucy, and the other rescued children through the hidden tunnel.
Buddy barked nonstop.
Vincent never took his eyes off the screen.
"Daniel."
"Can you trace it?"
Daniel typed furiously.
"I don't think it's coming from outside."
"What?"
"The signal..."
He swallowed.
"...originates somewhere inside Bellarosa Manor."
Two minutes remained.
Teams searched every room.
Nothing.
No bombs.
No transmitters.
No hidden computers.
Marco ran downstairs.
"Everything's clear!"
Vincent frowned.
"No."
"If someone wanted us gone..."
"...they wouldn't lie."
One minute.
Buddy suddenly sprinted away from Emma.
"Buddy!"
The puppy ignored her.
He raced toward the east wing.
Toward the oldest part of the mansion.
Vincent followed.
The hallway ended at a locked wine cellar.
Buddy scratched wildly at the wooden door.
Growling.
Marco kicked it open.
Rows of expensive bottles lined the walls.
Nothing unusual.
Then Buddy disappeared behind one rack.
Vincent pulled the shelf aside.
A narrow passage emerged.
Cold air drifted upward.
Marco whispered,
"This wasn't on the building plans."
Thirty seconds.
Flashlights illuminated ancient stone stairs leading beneath the mansion.
The walls looked far older than the estate itself.
Someone had built the tunnel decades before Vincent purchased the property.
Buddy reached the bottom first.
He barked furiously.
Vincent shined his flashlight.
A small surveillance room.
Four monitors.
Recording equipment.
Fresh coffee.
Still warm.
Someone had been there less than ten minutes earlier.
Daniel immediately unplugged the equipment.
"No explosives."
"So what was the countdown?"
The final seconds reached zero.
Every monitor switched simultaneously.
The screens went black.
Then one message appeared in white letters.
THANK YOU FOR FINDING MY ROOM.
Marco searched every drawer.
Most were empty.
One contained dozens of photographs.
Not of the children.
Of Vincent.
Meeting politicians.
Leaving restaurants.
Visiting Father Thomas.
Standing beside his father's grave.
The oldest picture dated back...
Nine years.
Someone had watched Vincent for nearly a decade.
Emma slowly entered the room.
She looked around nervously.
"I've seen this chair."
Everyone turned toward her.
"What?"
"This chair."
She pointed toward a worn leather seat facing the monitors.
"It was in another room."
"Where?"
"The place with the seventeen locks."
Vincent exchanged a glance with Marco.
"The same chair?"
Emma nodded.
"I remember because..."
She hesitated.
"The man sitting there never spoke."
Vincent walked toward the chair.
It faced the monitors like a throne.
Beneath one armrest his fingers found something unusual.
A carved symbol.
The same crest.
He pressed it.
A hidden compartment slid open.
Inside lay a small cassette recorder.
Old.
Dusty.
One tape remained inside.
Daniel inserted fresh batteries.
The tape crackled.
Then a man's voice filled the room.
Not Richard.
Someone older.
Calm.
Authoritative.
"If you are hearing this..."
"...Richard has failed."
Silence filled the underground room.
"My name is Robert Holloway."
Vincent's eyes widened.
"The twin."
Robert continued.
"I am not dead."
Marco stared in disbelief.
"I disappeared because I learned the truth too late."
The tape hissed.
"The Chairman cannot be defeated by force."
"He owns judges."
"He owns police."
"He owns businessmen."
"And he owns men who believe they serve justice."
The recording skipped briefly.
Then Robert spoke again.
"If Richard ever gives you the silver key..."
"...it means he finally trusted someone."
Vincent listened carefully.
"The Chairman has only one weakness."
"He never allows anyone to know his face."
The tape ended abruptly.
Not because it finished.
Because someone had cut it.
The remaining magnetic ribbon hung loose.
Deliberately destroyed.
Marco searched the room again.
One drawer refused to open.
He forced it.
Inside rested a single envelope.
No address.
Only Vincent's name.
He unfolded the paper.
A map.
The Chicago River.
One location circled in red.
Pier 17
Below the map, one sentence.
COME ALONE.
Daniel shook his head.
"It's a trap."
Marco agreed.
"They know you'll go."
Vincent folded the map.
"Yes."
"And?"
"I'll still go."
Upstairs, the children had gathered inside the library.
Emma quietly watched Vincent through the window.
"You aren't coming back tonight."
It wasn't a question.
Vincent smiled faintly.
"I'll try."
Emma reached into her pocket.
She handed him Lucy's crayon drawing.
The one showing Buddy.
The children.
And Vincent standing beside them.
"We're family now."
Her words hit harder than any bullet.
Vincent looked at the drawing for several seconds.
Then carefully folded it into his coat.
"I've lost too many families already."
Emma hugged him unexpectedly.
"You won't lose this one."
Midnight.
Chicago Harbor.
Dense fog covered the river.
Vincent arrived alone.
Exactly as instructed.
Pier 17 stood abandoned.
Old cranes towered above rusted shipping containers.
The silence felt unnatural.
Then...
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
A cane struck wooden boards somewhere inside the fog.
Vincent raised his pistol.
"Richard."
A figure slowly emerged.
Charcoal coat.
Silver hair.
Silver cane.
Richard Calloway.
He looked tired.
Older than before.
"You came."
"You expected me to."
Richard nodded.
"I was afraid you wouldn't."
Vincent kept his weapon lowered but ready.
"You've got one minute."
Richard smiled sadly.
"I don't need that long."
He reached into his pocket.
Instead of a gun...
He produced a worn photograph.
Two boys.
One smiling.
One serious.
Twins.
Robert and Richard Holloway.
"We were ten years old."
Richard's voice almost broke.
"The Chairman chose one of us."
Vincent frowned.
"For what?"
Richard looked directly into his eyes.
"To become his successor."
Before Vincent could respond...
A red laser dot appeared on Richard's chest.
Richard saw it too.
His expression didn't change.
He whispered only four words.
"He's already here."
The sniper fired.
The bullet struck Richard squarely in the chest.
He fell backward onto the wet wooden pier.
Vincent fired toward the rooftops.
Too late.
The assassin vanished into the fog.
Vincent dropped beside Richard.
Blood spread rapidly beneath him.
Richard struggled to breathe.
With trembling hands he grabbed Vincent's coat.
His final whispered words barely escaped his lips.
"Don't..."
"...trust..."
He coughed blood.
"...the priest."
Richard's hand fell limp.
The founder of the mystery.
The man Vincent had hunted for weeks.
Was dead.
But as police sirens echoed in the distance...
Vincent realized Richard's final warning had changed everything.
May you like
If Father Thomas couldn't be trusted...
Then no one in Vincent's world was truly innocent.
