Chapter 7 - The Descent of Arthur Vance and the Midnight Rescue
Back at the East Seventy-Second Street mansion, the snow continued to fall in heavy, silent drifts against the limestone windowpanes, blanketing the courtyard in a pristine, deceptive white.
Inside the service corridor, Clara Ellis paced back and forth across the checkered linoleum floor, her boots making rapid, frantic clicks that echoed in the empty hallway.
She had watched Adrien leave twenty minutes ago.
She had seen the terrifying urgency in his eyes when he snatched the note from Arthur Vance’s hand.
And she knew, with a mother’s gut-wrenching intuition, that Adrien had walked straight into a slaughterhouse.
“He’s not coming back alone,” Clara whispered to herself, pressing her cold hands against her face.
“And if Matteo realizes who I am... he won't just kill Adrien. He’ll take Mia.”
A soft creak from the hallway entrance made her spin around.
Arthur Vance, Adrien’s head of security, stepped out of the shadows, wearing his heavy black overcoat and holding a tactical submachine gun across his chest.
His face was grim, carved from the same uncompromising stone as his boss.
“You shouldn't be wandering the halls at this hour, Ms. Ellis,” Arthur said quietly, his eyes fixed on her with a strange, penetrating intensity.
“Arthur,” Clara rushed forward, grabbing the sleeve of his coat.
“Adrien went downtown alone. He went to meet Matteo. You know it’s a trap, don't you?”
Arthur didn't flinch.
He looked down at her small, trembling hand resting on his sleeve, then back up into her terrified eyes.
“Mr. Romano gave explicit orders,” Arthur replied, his voice flat and professional.
“If the perimeter sensors tripped, I was to secure the asset vaults and maintain defensive positions around the perimeter.”
“He’s going to get himself killed!” Clara cried, tears finally spilling over her lashes.
“And your precious boss is walking into a burning building because of a secret I should have never brought into this house!”
Arthur stared at her for a long, silent moment.
Then, a slow, grim smile touched the corner of his mouth.
“Mr. Romano gives a lot of orders, Ms. Ellis,” Arthur murmured, sliding the submachine gun comfortably over his shoulder.
“Most of them are brilliant. But telling me to sit on my hands while a coward like Matteo holds a gun to this family’s head? That’s where I draw the line.”
Arthur turned toward the subterranean garage access door at the end of the hall.
May you like
“Suit up, Ms. Ellis,” Arthur commanded, his voice dropping into a crisp, tactical register.
“We’re going to Wall Street.”
Related Stories
