Chapter 8 - Shadows at the Estate
The press conference had been a masterclass in corporate warfare. Eleanor had dismantled the smear campaign without shedding a single tear, displaying the unsealed federal indictments against Caleb and Vanessa Croft while announcing Vance Global’s record-shattering third-quarter earnings. By the time the stock exchange closed, Vance Global shares had surged twelve percent, while Julian Kane’s logistics empire faced an unprecedented digital blackout caused by the corrupted files Caleb had delivered.
Exhausted, Eleanor returned to the Vance Family Estate in the countryside outside the city. The rain had cleared, leaving behind a thick, suffocating fog that enveloped the iron gates and sprawling manicured gardens.
Marcus met her at the front entrance, his expression grave.
"We swept the perimeter twice, Miss Eleanor," Marcus reported, his voice low. "Everything is clear. But I’ve placed two additional guards on the upper floor outside the nursery."
"Thank you, Marcus. I just need a few hours of sleep," Eleanor murmured, feeling the heavy, aching weight of her pregnancy pulling at her lower back.
She walked slowly up the curved marble staircase, trailing her fingers along the mahogany banister her father had polished with his own hands when she was a little girl. She entered the newly renovated nursery—painted in soft tones of cream and blush pink, with a hand-carved wooden crib waiting beside the window.
She sat in the velvet rocking chair, closing her eyes for the first time in what felt like days.
*Click.*
The sound was nearly imperceptible, masked by the gentle hum of the estate’s heating system.
Eleanor’s eyes snapped open.
Across the room, the heavy velvet drapes beside the French balcony fluttered slightly. The locks on the balcony doors—locks that should have been sealed from the inside—were disengaged.
A cold draft rushed into the nursery, carrying the sharp scent of damp soil and cheap cologne. A scent she would recognize anywhere.
Eleanor rose slowly from the rocking chair, her heart slamming against her ribs, but she kept her voice entirely steady.
"Did you really think you could sneak into my father's house, Caleb?" she asked the shadows.
May you like
From behind the heavy mahogany armoire, a figure stepped forward into the dim light. Caleb’s designer clothes were filthy, his hair matted, his eyes burning with the hollow, feral madness of a man who had lost everything. In his right hand, he held a heavy iron fireplace poker.
"You took my life, Eleanor," Caleb hissed, his knuckles white around the iron. "Now I’m taking yours."
