Chapter 13: The Breach
The morning sun crept over the horizon, painting the Pacific Ocean in brilliant shades of gold and pink.
Inside the glass house, Emily awoke wrapped in fine Egyptian cotton sheets. For a brief, confusing second, she felt safe. Then the memories of last night crashed over her: the ledger, the thugs, Julian Vance, and the passionate, consuming night she had spent in Daniel’s arms.
She turned her head. The other side of the bed was empty, though the sheets still held his warmth.
Emily sat up, pulling Daniel’s oversized button-down shirt over her shoulders. She walked out of the bedroom and into the living area.
“Daniel?” she called out.
On the kitchen island, next to the ledger, sat a handwritten note.
Emily,
I couldn't risk bringing you with me. I am going to the Sterling Tower to lock Julian out of the corporate mainframe before he realizes I know the truth. The security system here is impenetrable. Do not open the doors for anyone. I will be back in two hours.
— D.
Emily felt a surge of panic. He had gone into the lion's den alone.
She walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the crashing waves. But as she stood there, a sudden, heavy thud echoed from the front of the house.
The lights in the living room flickered. Then, the electronic hum of the climate control died.
The power had been cut.
Emily’s heart leaped into her throat. She backed away from the glass, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. Daniel said the house was impenetrable. But if the power was out, that meant someone had bypassed the mainframe.
Someone with top-tier security clearance.
Julian.
CRASH!
The massive glass front doors shattered inward, showering the foyer in glittering, deadly shards.
Emily sprinted toward the kitchen island, grabbing the heavy black ledger. She looked around frantically for a weapon, snatching a heavy brass bookend from the nearest shelf.
Footsteps crunched over the broken glass. Slow. Deliberate.
“Emily Thorne,” a smooth, chilling voice echoed through the empty house.
Julian Vance stepped into the living room, a suppressed handgun resting casually in his right hand. Beside him was Vanessa, looking terrified but vindictive.
“Such a tragedy,” Julian tsked, looking around the beautiful home. “A home invasion gone wrong. A desperate burglar, a struggle, and poor Emily didn't survive.”
“Get away from me!” Emily shouted, backing up until her spine hit the kitchen counter.
“Give him the book, Emily!” Vanessa yelled, keeping her distance. “Just give him the book, and maybe he’ll let you live!”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Vanessa,” Julian chuckled darkly. He raised the gun, pointing it directly at Emily’s chest. “Hand over Arthur’s diary, sweetheart. It’s over.”
Emily clutched the ledger to her chest, her knuckles white. She closed her eyes, bracing for the gunshot. She wouldn't give it to him. She wouldn't let him win.
But the gunshot never came.
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Instead, a completely new voice, raspy and thick with age, boomed from the shattered doorway.
“You always were too quick to pull the trigger, Julian.”
