Chapter 2 - THE HOUSE WITH NO SAFE ROOM
The estate remained dark for seventy-three seconds.
Later, Grace would remember every one of them.
The pounding of boots through hallways.
Noah crying against her chest.
Damian standing directly in front of them.
His body positioned between his child and every possible threat.
Then the generators came alive.
Lights returned.
Cole’s men searched every room.
Nobody was found in the nursery.
No broken window.
No damaged lock.
No obvious sign of entry.
That frightened Cole more than a forced door would have.
“Someone knows the internal system,” he said.
Damian stood beside Noah’s crib.
“Staff?”
“Possibly.”
“Security?”
“Possibly.”
“Family?”
Cole paused.
“Possibly.”
Damian looked at him.
Grace noticed.
That pause mattered.
“Say what you’re thinking,” Damian ordered.
Cole closed the nursery door.
“Your estate security architecture was designed eight years ago.”
“By whom?”
“Hawthorne Strategic.”
“My father’s company.”
“Yes.”
“Who supervised it?”
Cole hesitated.
“Gabriel Voss.”
Grace saw Damian’s expression change.
She knew the name.
Everyone in Chicago knew the name.
Gabriel Voss had been Elias Hawthorne’s closest friend.
After Elias died, Gabriel became Damian’s mentor.
Not biologically family.
But close enough that Damian called him Uncle Gabriel when he was young.
Gabriel had attended Noah’s christening.
He had carried the baby.
He had toasted Damian’s engagement.
And he had personally recommended Camille Laurent.
Damian slowly turned.
“Where is Gabriel tonight?”
Cole checked his phone.
“New York.”
“Confirm it.”
Cole did.
Three minutes later, the answer came back.
Gabriel’s Manhattan apartment was empty.
His driver had not seen him in two days.
Damian said nothing.
Grace’s stomach tightened.
Cole continued searching.
Behind the nursery wall, technicians discovered an old service channel built for electrical wiring.
Someone had used it recently.
Dust had been disturbed.
A fiber from a black wool coat clung to a nail.
Then they discovered something worse.
A second camera.
This one was not connected to Camille’s network.
It was older.
Smaller.
Professionally installed.
It had watched Noah’s crib for months.
Grace covered her mouth.
“How long?”
Cole examined the device.
“At least six months.”
Grace stared at him.
“That’s exactly how long I’ve worked here.”
Damian looked toward her.
The implication was immediate.
Either someone installed it when Grace arrived—
or Grace’s arrival had been part of the plan.
Damian refused to accuse her.
But Grace saw the question in his eyes.
She hated that it hurt.
“I didn’t know.”
“I know,” Damian said.
“You can’t know.”
“I do.”
“How?”
He looked toward Noah.
“Because you had every opportunity tonight to save yourself.”
Grace swallowed.
“And instead?”
“You kept crawling toward my son.”
The words silenced her.
Cole’s phone rang.
He stepped into the hallway.
When he returned, his face had changed.
“Camille’s transport never reached central booking.”
Damian turned.
“What happened?”
“The police vehicle was hit.”
Grace froze.
“Is she alive?”
“One officer is injured.”
“And Camille?”
“Gone.”
Damian stared at Cole.
“Someone took her?”
“Yes.”
“Or helped her escape?”
“We don’t know.”
A second phone rang.
Damian answered.
He listened.
Then every trace of warmth disappeared from his face.
“Where?”
Grace watched him.
“What happened?”
Damian ended the call.
“Camille was found.”
Grace felt relief.
Then she saw his eyes.
“Where?”
“Under Lower Wacker.”
“Is she alive?”
Damian did not answer immediately.
Then he said,
“Yes.”
Grace exhaled.
“But barely.”
Camille had been left beside a concrete pillar.
No valuables taken.
No jewelry missing.
No attempt to hide her identity.
Only one thing had been placed beside her.
A black envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Elias Hawthorne.
Damian’s dead father.
Standing beside Gabriel Voss.
And a handwritten sentence.
THE OLD MAN TRIED TO STOP US TOO.
Grace read the photograph twice.
Then Damian quietly asked Cole,
“How did my father really die?”
Cole did not answer.
Damian looked at him.
“Cole.”
“I was told it was a heart attack.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Cole’s silence became an answer.
Damian stepped closer.
“What do you know?”
Cole lowered his eyes.
“Your father ordered an autopsy report sealed.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who ordered it sealed?”
May you like
Cole finally looked up.
“Gabriel Voss.”
