Chapter 13 - The Vance Manor Confrontation-13
At 4:00 a.m., Vance Manor sat high on the hill like a dark, concrete fortress.
Wrought-iron gates surrounded the thirty-acre estate, and security spotlights swept across the manicured lawns. But tonight, I wasn't hiding in the shadows.
I drove Arthur’s sedan right up to the main iron gates, slamming my foot onto the horn, holding it down until two armed security guards came running down the stone driveway, guns drawn.
"State your business!" one guard yelled over the rain.
I rolled down my window, looking him dead in the eye. "Tell Senator Vance that Emma Miller is here. And tell him if he doesn't open these gates in ten seconds, the U.S. Department of Justice will shut down every bank account he owns before the sun comes up."
The guard blinked, confused by my absolute confidence, but he quickly raised his walkie-talkie to his radio. A few seconds later, the massive iron gates groaned open, sliding back to allow my car inside.
I parked right in front of the grand stone entrance of the mansion.
I grabbed my bag containing Clara’s laptop and the hard drive, stepped out into the rain, and marched up the grand marble stairs. The massive double doors were pulled open by Marcus—the security guard who had locked us in the cellar three hours ago.
Marcus stared at me like he was seeing a ghost. His face went pale, his hand reaching instinctively for his sidearm.
"Touch that gun, Marcus," I said coldly, stepping past him into the grand foyer, "and you'll spend the next thirty years in a federal penitentiary as an accessory to treason."
I walked into the grand drawing room.
Senator Thomas Vance was sitting in a high-backed leather armchair by a massive stone fireplace, sipping a glass of scotch. Sitting on the couch beside him was my son, Leo.
Leo was unharmed. He sat rigid, his hands folded in his lap, refusing to touch the plate of hot food Thomas’s servants had placed in front of him.
"MOM!" Leo cried out the moment he saw me, jumping off the couch and sprinting across the Persian rug, throwing his arms around my waist.
I held my son tight, my body shaking with relief, kissing his hair over and over again. "Are you okay, baby? Did he hurt you?"
"I'm okay, Mom," Leo whispered into my neck. "I didn't eat his food. I didn't tell him anything."
"Good boy," I murmured, standing up, keeping Leo behind me as I turned to face Thomas Vance.
Thomas slowly set his crystal glass down on the side table. His face was calm, but his gray eyes were dark with a dangerous, simmering fury.
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"You're remarkably persistent, Emma," Thomas said smoothly, standing up. "Marcus told me you were locked in the archive basement. I see your father's old municipal knowledge still proved useful."
"Your game is over, Thomas," I said, stepping into the center of the room.
