Chapter 5 - The Tower of Secrets
The west tower study had remained untouched since the death of Edward Sterling eight years prior.
It was a vast, circular room lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves carved out of dark English walnut. A heavy executive desk made of solid mahogany sat near a tall lancet window that overlooked the misty valley below. The air was thick with the scent of leather-bound books, pipe tobacco, and aged paper.
Bennett pushed the heavy oak door shut, throwing a heavy brass deadbolt into place.
He instantly moved to the window, pulling the heavy velvet drapes shut to prevent any light from escaping into the night. He switched on a single, low-wattage desk lamp, casting a warm, amber glow over the room.
Josephine finally sank onto a leather sofa near the cold fireplace, her body trembling violently as the adrenaline that had sustained her for forty-eight hours began to drain from her muscles. She carefully laid the twins down on the soft velvet cushions, wrapping them securely in a wool throw blanket Bennett handed her.
The girls blinked up at the ceiling, their tiny fingers clutching the fringe of the blanket, exhausted but safe.
Bennett sat at the mahogany desk, picking up the heavy brass landline receiver. He dialed an international number from memory, his knuckles white against the black plastic.
"Arthur," Bennett spoke into the receiver the moment the call connected. "It's Bennett. I need you to dispatch the private security team from the Geneva office immediately. Two armored vehicles, six men, full diplomatic clearance. And bring Dr. Moreau with you."
A fast, frantic voice spoke on the other end of the line, asking questions.
"I don't care about the board meeting!" Bennett snapped, his voice booming in the quiet study. "My life is at stake, Arthur. My daughters are at stake. Get here in two hours, or you're fired."
He slammed the receiver down, leaning his head into his hands, his breath coming in jagged gasps.
Josephine watched him from the sofa. "Two hours is a long time in this house, Bennett."
Bennett pulled his hands away from his face, looking at her with hollow, bloodshot eyes. "It's the fastest they can get here from Switzerland. We just have to hold out until—"
A sharp, metallic click echoed from the doorway of the study.
Bennett’s eyes snapped toward the door. The deadbolt he had drawn moments ago was slowly, silently sliding back into its housing from the outside.
Josephine stood up instantly, stepping between the leather sofa and the door, her hands curling into tight fists.
The heavy mahogany door swung open with a slow, agonizing groan.
Standing in the threshold was not Julian, nor was it the local police.
It was Victoria.
She had stripped off her heavy mink stole, her gold sequined dress ripped at the hem, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight, messy bun. But it was not her ruined appearance that made Bennett’s blood freeze.
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In her right hand, raised and steady, was a small, sleek snub-nosed .38 revolver. And standing directly behind her, holding a heavy iron crowbar, was the disgraced family physician—Dr. Henry Sterling, Bennett’s uncle, the man who had officially certified the birth of the twins in the cellar.
"You really should have taken the payout, Josephine," Victoria said, her voice eerily calm, her eyes glassy with an unstable, dangerous hysteria. "It would have been so much cleaner for everyone."
