Chapter 2 - The Mask Slips Away
Victoria Lane’s foot caught on the curb. For a fraction of a second, the aristocratic composure she wore like a second skin fractured, revealing a flicker of sheer, unadulterated panic.
She recovered almost instantly, letting out a musical, pitying laugh that sounded hollow even to her own ears.
"Told their father what, Emily?" Victoria said, smoothing down the front of her trench coat as she stepped onto the road. "That they threw a tantrum because their favorite servant was caught red-handed with stolen jewelry? Richard, darling, look at them! They're hysterical. You know how children fabricate stories when they don't get their way. They're trying to protect her because she lets them eat sweets and watch television all day."
Richard Hawthorne did not stand up. He remained on his knees on the asphalt, his broad shoulders shaking slightly.
He looked at the dark red stains soaking into Emily's uniform. He looked at Ethan's arm, where a three-inch shard of leaded crystal was still embedded shallowly beneath the skin, surrounded by a swelling welt of purple and black.
"Richard?" Victoria’s voice lost some of its melodious charm, taking on a sharper, more demanding edge. "Did you hear me? Stand up. You are the CEO of Hawthorne Dynamics, kneeling in the middle of a public street in front of the help. Have you completely lost your mind? Get the security team out here to drag those brats back inside before the neighbors start taking photographs!"
*Those brats.*
The words seemed to hang in the air like poison gas.
Richard slowly raised his head. When Victoria saw his eyes, she actually took a step back. The man she had spent the last eight months carefully cultivating, charming, and manipulating looked like a stranger. His jaw was clenched so hard that a vein pulsed violently against his temple. His gray eyes, usually so cold and detached, burned with an incandescence that chilled her to the bone.
"What did you call them, Victoria?" Richard asked. His voice was dangerously low, almost a whisper, yet it carried an authority that made the hair on the back of Emily's neck stand up.
Victoria blinked, a nervous flutter in her throat. "I—I called them... Richard, they destroyed a seventeenth-century Ming dynasty replica! They ran into the street! I am merely stressed for their safety—"
"You locked them in the cellar," Richard said. It wasn't a question. It was a cold, devastating conclusion.
"That is an absolute lie!" Victoria shrieked, her voice spiking an entire octave. "Why would I lock them anywhere? They ran down there to hide because they knew they were in trouble! I went down after them, and they threw glass at me! Look at my coat!" She thrust forward the sleeve of her trench coat, showing a tiny, barely visible snag in the fabric. "They attacked me, Richard! Your children are out of control! Without a mother to instill proper discipline, they have become completely feral!"
"They don't have a mother," Emily said, stepping forward, her eyes blazing with fury. "Because Clara died giving them life. And instead of giving them love, you've spent eight months treating them like inconvenient obstacles to your society wedding!"
"Shut your mouth, you peasant!" Victoria hissed, abandoning all pretenses. Her beautiful face twisted into an ugly, sneering mask of hatred. "You are a maid! A minimum-wage scrubwoman who steals jewelry from the people who pity her! How dare you speak to me? How dare you look at me? Richard, fire her again! Have her arrested! If you don't call the police right now, I'm calling my father, and we will pull the entire venture syndicate from your cloud computing launch!"
Richard slowly rose to his feet. He was a tall man, standing six-foot-two, with a broad, athletic frame that dwarfed Victoria. As he stood to his full height, the sheer shadow he cast over her seemed to suck the breath from her lungs.
He pulled his smartphone from his pocket.
Victoria let out a sigh of triumphant relief. "Finally. Call the precinct captain. Have him send two cars."
Richard tapped the screen, but he didn't dial the police captain. He dialed a direct extension to the Hawthorne Crest central security command center.
"Marcus," Richard said into the phone, his voice steady, flat, and lethal. "Pull the interior feeds from the grand foyer and the lower terrace staircase between 2:00 PM and 2:30 PM. Put them on my private server right now."
Victoria's breath hitched. A sheen of cold sweat broke out across her forehead.
"Richard..." she stammered, stepping closer and reaching for his arm. "Darling, there's no need to waste time with security footage. The children need medical attention. Let me take them back inside—"
"Marcus is telling me something interesting, Victoria," Richard continued, ignoring her completely as he pressed the phone tighter to his ear. His gaze remained locked on Victoria's blanching face. "He says the camera covering the lower terrace staircase was manually switched to a static loop at 2:08 PM. Using an override code issued from the master suite tablet. The tablet currently in your handbag."
Victoria froze. Her hand, which had been reaching for Richard's sleeve, dropped to her side.
"However," Richard whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and profound self-loathing, "Marcus informed me that our new auxiliary system—the one installed last Tuesday for the insurance audit—operates on an independent, encrypted optical network that cannot be overridden without my biometric clearance."
A soft chime sounded from Richard's phone. An alert confirming a video file had been processed.
Richard held the screen up.
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Emily couldn't see the video from where she stood, but she could see the reflection of the moving images dancing across Victoria’s terrified, dilated pupils.
On the screen was the crystal-clear feed of the foyer. It showed Victoria Lane grabbing five-year-old Noah by the collar of his shirt. It showed her screaming into the terrified child's face, hurling a heavy crystal vase against