Chapter 4 - The Maid’s Bargain
Julian’s threat hung in the air like poison. Through the panic room monitors, Claire watched Adrian press his hand against his bleeding shoulder, his jaw set in a murderous grimace. He was cornered behind the foot of the grand staircase, his ammunition depleted, his backup pinned down on the opposite side of the great hall.
Julian’s men were fanning out, their boots crunching over broken glass and scattered Christmas baubles.
""Check the upstairs bedrooms!"" Julian ordered his two remaining henchmen. ""The kid is up there somewhere. Grab her. The maid will come running the moment the child screams.""
""No,"" Claire whispered, her entire body going cold.
She looked down at Lucy, who was trembling in her arms, clutching her little stuffed rabbit as if it were the only anchor holding her to the earth. If those monsters reached this wing, they would find a way through the door. Or worse, they would set fire to the mansion and smoke them out. Adrian had taken a bullet to protect her—a man who had every reason to throw her to the wolves the moment he found out she had lied to him.
""Lucy,"" Claire said, cupping the child's tear-streaked face. ""Listen to me very carefully.""
""Miss Claire, I'm scared,"" Lucy whimpered.
""I know, baby. But you are safe in this room. Your daddy built this room so nothing in the world can hurt you in here. Do you understand?""
Lucy nodded hesitantly.
""I need you to sit right here. Don't touch the door. Don't make a sound. I have to go help your daddy.""
""Don't leave me!"" Lucy begged, grabbing Claire’s sleeve. ""Please, don't leave!""
""I have to, sweetie. But I promise you, by morning, this will all be over. Your daddy loves you more than anything in the world. Remember that.""
Claire kissed Lucy’s forehead, gently pried the girl’s fingers away, and turned to the emergency locker on the wall. Inside was a small secondary control panel and a sleek, stainless-steel revolver kept for last-resort defense. Claire picked up the heavy gun. Her father had taught her how to shoot at their private range when she was just a teenager, before the empire fell, before the bloodline of the Valentis was reduced to ash. She checked the cylinder. Six rounds.
She took a deep breath, opened the panic room door, stepped into the hallway, and locked it from the outside using the keycard, ensuring Lucy was completely sealed in.
Claire didn't take the grand staircase. She knew the layout of the mansion better than anyone—she had spent three years cleaning every inch of it. She slipped down the narrow, unlit servants' spiral stairs that led directly behind the pantry, emerging quietly into the dining room.
Mrs. Greer was crouching behind the mahogany sideboard, clutching a wound on her leg, her shotgun empty. The old woman looked up, her eyes widening in shock as she saw Claire holding a revolver.
""Child, what are you doing?"" Mrs. Greer hissed. ""Get back upstairs!""
""He's here for me, Martha,"" Claire whispered, her voice surprisingly steady, the trembling in her hands gone, replaced by a cold, deadly clarity. ""And I'm done running.""
Claire stepped out from the dining room archway into the grand foyer, into the flickering emergency lights and the haze of gunpowder smoke.
""Julian!"" Claire's voice rang out, clear, resonant, and commanding.
Every gun in the room snapped in her direction. Adrian, still crouching behind the staircase balustrade, whipped his head around, his eyes blazing with sheer fury and disbelief. ""Claire! What the hell are you doing?! Get down!""
Julian Vance stopped dead in his tracks. A slow, triumphant sneer spread across his lips as he lowered his golden pistol.
""Well, well, well,"" Julian mocked, stepping forward, his designer leather shoes crushing a glass snowflake ornament beneath his heel. ""Look at the little princess. Playing housemaid in the Connecticut woods. You look pathetic, Clara. Your father would turn in his shallow grave.""
""My father died with honor,"" Claire said, stepping forward, the revolver held firmly at her side. ""Something you bought with bribes and backstabbing. You wanted me, Julian. Here I am. Tell your men to lower their weapons and let the Vales go. They have nothing to do with our family's war.""
Julian laughed—a harsh, barking sound that echoed through the ruined mansion. ""You think you're in a position to negotiate? You're a beggar with a stolen family crest. Once I put a bullet in Adrian Vale and erase his little empire, you're coming back with me to sign the Boston port deeds. And then... well, an unfortunate accident can always happen to a tragic orphan.""
""I won't sign anything,"" Claire said cold as ice. ""Not while I'm alive.""
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""Then I'll just have to torture the little girl upstairs until you find your signature,"" Julian sneered, raising his gun directly toward Claire's forehead.
That was his mistake. He mentioned the child.
