Chapter 4 - The Vault of Lies-4-
Returning to the estate felt like walking into the center of a spider's web. The house was quiet, the only sound the faint, rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Celeste was in the sitting room, reading. She looked up as I entered, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in my appearance.
"You look tired," she said, setting her book down.
"It was a long day," I replied, heading straight for the stairs. "I need a drink and some sleep."
She stood up. "I thought we could talk about the wedding guest list. My mother is asking if we've sent the invitations to the East Side contacts."
"Tomorrow, Celeste," I said, not turning around. "I’m not in the mood for politics tonight."
I felt her gaze on my back, cold and analytical. I reached my mother’s room and locked the door behind me. I knew the security cameras in the hallway were watching, so I moved to the bathroom, keeping my back to the wall.
"Mother," I whispered, kneeling by the bed. "I have it. I have the reconstruction."
She didn't move, but her breathing hitched. I checked the hall; the coast was clear. I took the device Silas had given me and placed it near her ear.
"This is the first step," I whispered. "I'm going to set it up to interface with the monitor. We have one chance. If the system recognizes the synthesis, it will unlock the archives. If it fails, it will trigger a total lockout and an alarm."
She blinked once. Go.
I pulled the monitor from the wall and opened the internal panel. It was an intricate web of fiber optics and gold circuitry—vintage tech that was still the most secure thing in the city. I bypassed the main terminal and connected the drive.
I pressed play.
The harvest is ready.
The voice filled the room, metallic and synthesized, but in the sterile environment of the hospital bed, it sounded almost real.
The computer terminal on the wall began to flicker. A loading bar appeared: AUTHENTICATION IN PROGRESS.
I held my breath. My heart was thumping so hard I was sure it could be heard in the hallway.
30%... 50%... 70%...
Then, the screen froze.
CRITICAL ERROR: BIOMETRIC MISMATCH.
Panic clawed at my throat. "It didn't work," I hissed.
My mother’s eyes widened, and she started to make a soft, guttural sound—a desperate attempt to push air through her paralyzed throat. She was trying to force the sound out, trying to override the machine.
"Don't," I said, trying to calm her. "It’s okay—"
But she didn't stop. She pushed, her face turning a deep, bruised purple. She needed to speak. She had to speak.
Suddenly, a sound came out. It wasn't my mother's voice. It was a wheezing, broken, ancient sound, but it was the right pitch, the right cadence.
The... harvest... is... ready...
The screen flashed green.
ACCESS GRANTED.
Data began to pour onto the screen—names, dates, account numbers, maps of tunnels beneath the city, bank records in the Cayman Islands, the real story of Pier 44. It was all there, a mountain of evidence that could bring down every powerful person in Chicago.
I grabbed a second drive and started the transfer.
10%... 20%...
Suddenly, the door handle turned.
"Elias?" Celeste’s voice came from the other side. "Why is the door locked?"
I froze. I shoved the transfer drive into my pocket and scrambled to hide the device behind the bed frame.
"Just changing, Celeste!" I called out, my voice cracking.
"Open the door. I heard someone talking. Was that your mother?"
She started to pound on the door. It was heavy, reinforced oak, but I knew she wouldn't stop.
I looked at my mother. She was gasping for air, her eyes filled with terror. She had pushed herself too far. She was fading.
"I have to go," I whispered. "I have the data. I’ll come back for you."
I scrambled toward the balcony, the only exit besides the door. I threw it open, the freezing air rushing into the room, and stepped out onto the ledge.
As I leaped to the trellis and slid down into the dark, hidden garden, I heard the door crash open behind me.
May you like
"Elias!" Celeste screamed.
I didn't look back. I ran through the shadows of the hedges, my lungs burning, the data drive a heavy weight in my pocket. I had the truth, but now, I was a marked man. The hunters had become the hunted, and I was running for my life through the only home I’d ever known.
