Chapter 8 - The Trap in the Office-8
The climb up the laundry shaft was brutal. My limbs ached, and dust choked my throat, but adrenaline fueled every movement.
I reached the second-floor access hatch, peeked through the wooden slats, and saw the upper hallway. The house was eerie in its emptiness—all my furniture was gone, leaving bare walls and sun-dappled hardwood floors.
Through the crack beneath the door of Daniel's old bedroom—the room Vanessa had labeled "future office"—I heard muffled voices and the sound of duct tape being stretched.
I slid out of the chute, landing quietly on the carpeted floor. I moved stealthily down the hall and peered into the room.
Daniel was tied to a wooden chair, his face bruised, his dress shirt torn. Vanessa sat bound beside him, her hair disheveled, tears smearing her mascara. She looked small, terrified, and entirely stripped of the icy, arrogant demeanor she had worn when she posted that airport photo.
"Please," Vanessa wept, her voice trembling. "We don't have the key! Margaret sold the house! We don't even know where she went!"
Michael Henderson stood over them, holding a heavy tactical flashlight. "Your mother-in-law is a very clever woman, Vanessa. But she's running out of time. Claire will find her."
Daniel looked up, his jaw set, though fear filled his eyes. "Leave my mother out of this. She doesn't know anything about a vault! She's just an old woman!"
Listening from the doorway, a surge of complicated emotion hit me. Despite everything—despite his selfishness, his callous text messages, his willingness to cast me aside—Daniel was trying to protect me.
I pulled a heavy iron pipe wrench from the tool belt Thomas had left near the hallway closet, stepped into the doorway, and cleared my throat.
"I wouldn't call me just an old woman, Daniel," I said calmly.
Michael Henderson spun around, raising his flashlight, but before he could react, I swung the heavy wrench with every ounce of strength in my body, striking him square across the collarbone.
He groaned, staggering backward and crashing into the wall.
"Mom?!" Daniel gasped, his eyes bulging in absolute shock.
"Margaret?!" Vanessa shrieked.
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I didn't waste a second. I rushed forward, picked up the utility knife Henderson had dropped on the floor, and sliced through the thick plastic zip-ties binding Daniel's and Vanessa's wrists.
"Get up," I ordered fiercely. "Both of you. Now!"
