Chapter 4 - The Ticking Clock
The red and blue emergency lights flashed through the stained-glass windows, casting demonic, rhythmic shadows across the frescoes of the foyer.
Bennett didn't hesitate. The corporate executive, the polished socialite, the man who had spent his life adhering to rules and protocol, ceased to exist. In his place stood a father driven by a sudden, violent instinct to protect his blood.
He turned to Josephine, grabbing her by her bare upper arm—not with force, but with a firm, protective urgency.
"Follow me," Bennett ordered, his voice thick with authority.
"Bennett, no!" Julian yelled from the stairs, raising his iron cane like a weapon as he began to scramble down the remaining steps. "You can't hide her! The police will search every inch of this place!"
Bennett didn't even look back at his brother. He guided Josephine through a narrow, hidden panel set into the dark wainscoting beneath the grand staircase—a servant's passage he had discovered as a child while playing in the vast, labyrinthine mansion.
They slipped into the narrow, pitch-black corridor just as the sound of heavy boots began pounding against the heavy oak front doors outside.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
"Gendarmerie Nationale! Open the door!" a voice bellowed through an amplification speaker outside.
Bennett pulled the hidden panel shut until the wooden latch clicked softly into place, plunging them into absolute darkness.
"Can you see?" Bennett whispered, his warm breath fanning across Josephine’s ear in the narrow space.
"I spent seven months in the dark, Bennett," Josephine replied, her voice cold, steady, and hauntingly adapted to the shadows. "I can see better than you."
The servant's passage was narrow, the stone walls sweating with moisture, smelling of dry rot and old brick. Josephine moved with uncanny confidence, her bare feet finding purchase on the uneven floorboards, her arms locked securely around the twins, who had miraculously fallen into a quiet, tense lull, lulled by the rhythmic movement of her chest.
Behind them, through the thin wood of the panel, they heard the heavy front doors give way with a splintering crash. Shouted commands in French filled the grand foyer, followed by the dry, persuasive voice of Julian greeting the officers, instantly crafting a narrative of terror and intrusion.
"Where are we going?" Josephine asked as they descended a narrow, spiral flight of stone steps that led deep into the foundations of the château.
"To my father's old study in the west tower," Bennett whispered, his hand resting gently against her back to guide her through the pitch blackness. "It has its own secure communications line that bypasses the main estate switchboard. I need to call my personal legal team in Paris and a private medical team to get the babies checked."
"No police?" Josephine asked, stopping on the steps, her voice laced with deep suspicion.
"Not the local Gendarmerie," Bennett said fiercely, turning to face her in the gloom. "The local chief of police was on my mother's payroll for twenty years, and Victoria’s father donates millions to their regional pension fund. If I hand you over to them right now, Victoria’s lawyers will have you committed to an asylum before midnight, and the babies will be placed in 'protective custody' controlled by the Vance trust."
Josephine felt a microscopic crack in the icy wall she had built around her heart. She looked at the silhouette of Bennett’s face in the dim light filtering through an iron grate overhead.
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"You believe me," she stated, it was not a question.
"I saw the cleft in their chins, Josephine," Bennett said, his voice breaking as he reached out, his thumb gently brushing the soft cheek of the baby on her right. "And I saw the terror in Victoria’s eyes. I was a fool for fourteen months, but I am not blind anymore. I am going to tear this whole damn family apart to keep you and these girls safe."
