Chapter 4 - NO PLACE TO HIDE
I stepped back from the door as if burned. Behind me, Olivia gasped. Lily buried her face in my shirt.
"Vanessa," Olivia whispered.
"How did you get James’s voice?" I called out, stalling for time, reaching for my phone to dial Hale.
"A trick," Vanessa said through the wood. "A voice app. Very convincing, isn’t it? Almost as convincing as the act I put on for two years in your bed, at your table, in your home. You were so easy to fool, Adrian. So desperate to believe in love."
I dialed Hale’s number. It went straight to a busy signal. I tried again. Same result. Someone had jammed the line.
"What do you want?" I asked, keeping her talking while I scanned the room for escape routes. The bedroom had one door, one large window leading to a second-floor balcony, and a heavy oak wardrobe.
"You already know," Vanessa said. "I want what I was promised. I want everything. And those two little girls standing in your room… they stand in the way. Hand them over, Adrian. And I might let you live."
"You’ll never touch them," I said, my voice shaking but firm.
"Then we do this the hard way," Vanessa said. "I gave you a chance. Now I’m coming in."
I heard the sound of something hard scraping against the lock. A pick. A tool. Whatever she had brought with her.
"Girls," I whispered, kneeling. "Climb into the wardrobe. All the way to the back. Curl up. Be absolutely silent. Do not make a sound. No matter what you hear. Do you understand?"
Olivia nodded instantly, grabbing Lily’s hand. "Come on, Lily. Into the back. Don’t make a noise."
They scrambled into the wardrobe and pulled the doors almost shut. I stood, moved the dresser just enough to slip behind it, and stood to the side of the door—out of direct line of sight.
The lock clicked.
The door swung open. The dresser shuddered and scraped across the floor as Vanessa shoved it aside.
She stepped into the room.
Vanessa was dressed entirely in black. Her hair was pulled back tight. In her hand she held a small, silver handgun. Her eyes swept the room—empty beds, lamp burning, no sign of me.
"Come out, Adrian," she said, turning slowly. "Hiding only makes it messier."
I stepped out from behind the dresser. "Put the gun down, Vanessa."
She turned sharply, leveling the weapon straight at my chest. A cold, cruel smile touched her lips.
"There you are. Brave protector. Where are your little birds? Hiding? Scared?"
"Leave them out of this," I said, inching forward slowly. "This is between us. Whatever you want—money, property, the business—name it. It’s yours. Just leave my daughters alone."
Vanessa laughed—a sharp, bitter sound. "You think this is about money? Oh, Adrian. You really are foolish. Money was never the point. Power was. And status. And watching everything you love crumble into dust."
She took a step closer, gun never wavering.
"You had everything," she said. "Wealth. Respect. Beautiful daughters. A perfect life. And I… I had nothing. Until I realized… I could take it all. Piece by piece. I could become your wife. I could become their mother. And then… I could become everything you are."
"You tried to kill children," I said, my voice rising. "Innocent children."
"They were in my way!" Vanessa snapped. "Lily first. Then Olivia. Once they were gone… I would have been all you had left. And then, slowly… I would have made sure you had an accident too. And then… everything would have been mine."
"And who is 'we'?" I demanded. "The messages. The note. Who are you working with?"
Vanessa’s expression shifted. A flicker of hesitation. "No one. There is no one else."
"Liar," I said. "You wrote 'we'. Someone helped you escape. Someone is waiting for you to finish the job. Who is it?"
Vanessa’s finger tightened on the trigger. "It doesn’t matter. They’ll get what they’re owed. And you… you’ll be dead before sunrise."
She raised the gun higher. Her eyes flicked toward the wardrobe doors—slightly ajar. A tiny gap.
Vanessa smiled.
"There," she said. "That’s where they are."
She took a step toward the wardrobe.
"Don’t touch them!" I lunged.
I hit her hard in the chest. She stumbled back, the gun firing once—*BANG*—into the ceiling, plaster raining down. We crashed into the bedside table, lamp shattering, rolling across the floor. Vanessa fought like a wild thing—scratching, kicking, screaming. I grabbed her wrist, twisting, trying to pry the gun loose.
She head-butted me in the face. Pain exploded across my vision. My grip loosened. Vanessa tore free, scrambled back, and raised the gun—both hands now, aiming straight at me.
I saw her finger begin to squeeze.
Then—*BANG!*
Vanessa jerked. She gasped, clutching her shoulder. Blood bloomed black against her black clothing. She stared at me in shock, then toward the doorway.
James stood there—pale, breathing hard, holding a firearm of his own.
"James!" I gasped.
Vanessa staggered back, clutching her bleeding shoulder, gun slipping from her grasp. She looked at James with an expression I couldn’t quite place—shock, recognition, something deeper.
"You…" she whispered.
James stepped into the room, weapon trained on her. "Step away from him, Vanessa. It’s over."
Vanessa laughed, breathless and wild. "Over? This is only just beginning! You think a bullet in the shoulder stops anything? You think he—" She cut herself off, glancing sharply at me. "You have no idea what you’ve started."
"Then tell us," James said. "Tell us who you’re working with. Tell us the whole plan."
Vanessa backed toward the balcony doors, still clutching her wound. Thunder cracked overhead, lightning flashing.
"I’ll tell you nothing," she said. "And when I come back—next time—there will be no warning. No mercy. And no James to save you."
She wrenched open the balcony doors and scrambled out into the storm.
"Stop!" James moved to follow.
"James, wait!" I caught his arm. "The girls—"
We turned together. I rushed to the wardrobe and pulled the doors open.
Olivia and Lily huddled together, wide-eyed, trembling, unharmed. Lily began crying quietly. Olivia wrapped her arms around her sister, staring up at me, terrified but brave.
"Is she gone?" Olivia whispered.
"For now," I said, pulling them both into a tight embrace. "For now. But we’re safe. You’re safe."
James stood beside us, lowering his weapon, his expression grave. He looked toward the balcony, rain whipping in through the open doors.
"She escaped down the trellis," James said. "I can send men after her—"
"No," I said. "It’s too dark. Too dangerous. And if she has accomplices waiting… we can’t risk walking into a trap."
James nodded slowly. Then he looked at me—really looked at me—and his voice dropped low.
"Adrian… when she saw me. When she realized it was me shooting… she knew my face. She looked at me as if she recognized me. As if she knew exactly who I was."
I stared at him. "What does that mean?"
James was quiet a long moment. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, weathered photograph—faded, edges worn. He handed it to me.
May you like
It showed two young boys standing side by side. One was James. The other… had the same eyes. The same jawline. The same cold, sharp look Vanessa had worn just minutes ago.
"Vanessa isn't working with someone," James said quietly. "She’s working for family. That boy… is my brother. And Vanessa… she’s his wife."
