Chapter 3: The Night The Pierce Mansion Burned
The first gunshot shattered the study window.
Yvette pulled Emma to the floor before Christopher even moved.
Glass exploded across the carpet.
Nora screamed.
Christopher grabbed the flash drive, shoved it into his pocket, and crawled toward Emma.
“Look at me,” he told her.
Emma’s face was white with terror.
“I’m scared.”
“I know,” Christopher said. “But you are not alone anymore.”
That promise became the only thing holding him together.
They escaped through the servants’ passage behind the old wine shelves, a tunnel Christopher had played in as a boy and forgotten as a man.
Yvette led the way.
Nora followed.
Christopher carried Emma, one hand over the back of her head.
Behind them, men stormed the study.
Then came Estelle’s voice through the intercom.
Calm.
Cold.
Almost bored.
“Christopher, stop this foolishness. Give me the documents, and the child can go somewhere comfortable.”
Emma trembled against him.
Christopher stopped walking.
For one dangerous second, the son inside him wanted to believe there was still a mother somewhere in that voice.
Then Estelle continued.
“She was never supposed to survive Rachel.”
Yvette covered her mouth.
Christopher went still.
Rachel.
Emma’s mother.
The woman everyone said had died in a car accident.
Nora whispered, “Oh my God.”
Christopher’s expression changed.
Not rage.
Something colder.
Something final.
He lifted Emma higher and kept moving.
They reached the underground garage just as smoke began crawling through the ceiling vents.
Estelle’s men had set fire to the west wing.
Not to kill him publicly.
To destroy records.
To create chaos.
To bury the truth in ash.
Christopher loaded Emma, Yvette, and Nora into a black SUV.
But before he could get in, a figure stepped from the shadows.
Juliette.
Her wrists bruised from handcuffs.
Mascara streaked down her face.
“I can help you,” she whispered.
Christopher stared at her.
“You tried to drown my daughter.”
Juliette flinched.
“I know. And I’ll burn in hell for it. But Estelle promised me everything if I helped. Then she sent men to kill me before I could talk.”
She held out a phone.
“There’s a video. Rachel’s crash. It wasn’t an accident.”
Christopher’s blood turned cold.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Smoke filled the garage.
Emma whispered from inside the SUV.
“Daddy, please.”
Christopher took the phone.
Then he looked at Juliette one last time.
“Get in.”
Yvette gasped.
“Sir—”
Christopher opened the driver’s door.
“She testifies,” he said. “Or my mother walks.”
As the SUV tore out of the burning mansion, Christopher glanced in the mirror.
The Pierce estate stood behind them in flames.
And on the balcony, surrounded by smoke, Estelle Pierce watched them escape.
May you like
She did not run.
She smiled.
