Chapter 9: Ascent into the Storm
The vertical ladder shaft was pitch black, save for the sickly green glow of the emergency exit strip running along the base of the metal rungs.
"Evelyn, can you see the top?" Noah called out from his seat, which Evelyn was hauling upward one rung at a time, her arms burning with agonizing pain as her blistered skin rubbed against the cold steel.
"I see light! Keep moving, Noah!" she gasped, her breath coming in ragged, painful gasps.
Above them, the heavy rain beat a relentless tattoo against the acrylic roof of the estate's grand botanical greenhouse. The greenhouse sat isolated on the western edge of the gardens, far enough from the burning east wing to have escaped major structural damage, though wisps of smoke still drifted through its shattered glass panes.
With a final, desperate heave, Evelyn shoved Noah’s chair through the roof hatch, tumbling out onto the slick, wet tile floor of the greenhouse among rows of exotic orchids and giant ferns.
She collapsed onto her hands and knees, clutching the leather folder of the will tightly against her chest, her chest heaving as she sucked in the cool, rain-washed air.
"Are you okay?" Noah asked, rolling his chair over to her, his young face etched with deep fear.
"I'm... I'm okay," Evelyn panted, wiping a mixture of sweat and soot from her forehead.
Before they could catch their breath, the heavy metal door at the opposite end of the greenhouse clicked open.
A sharp, elegant click of high heels echoed against the tile floor.
Evelyn froze. She slowly lifted her head.
Standing beneath the shattered glass dome of the greenhouse, framed by flashes of distant lightning, was Victoria Whitmore. She wasn't wearing her mink stole anymore; instead, she wore a sleek, black waterproof trench coat, her silver-blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. In her right hand, she held a small, elegant silver-plated revolver.
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Behind her stood Marcus Vance, holding a secure laptop case, smiling a cold, mirthless smile.
"Well, well, well," Victoria murmured, her voice dripping with venomous amusement as she stepped closer, the heels of her boots clicking rhythmically against the wet stone. "Domestic staff really do think they can play hero, don't they?"
