Chapter 12 - Return to the Estate
The pre-dawn mist clung to the overgrown lawns of the European estate like a shroud of damp wool as we slipped back through the rusted side gate. The county road was silent, save for the occasional distant hum of a commuter car heading toward the city. We moved with deliberate caution, keeping close to the shadows of the tall privet hedges until we reached the disused service entrance on the eastern wing of the mansion.
The heavy iron door creaked softly on its hinges as Julian pushed it open, the old grease offering just enough resistance to keep the sound from echoing down the stone corridor. Inside, the mansion felt entirely different than it had during my days of routine service. The opulent halls were shrouded in deep shadows, the crystal chandeliers silent and dark. Every footstep on the parquet floors carried the weight of a potential trap, but our movements were practiced now, synchronized through hours of shared danger.
We made our way up the grand staircase to the master bedroom suite where the whole conspiracy had begun. The room was untouched since our departure, the torn cream velvet of the tufted headboard still gaping open to expose the blinking red LED modules and black wiring we had uncovered days ago. But this time, we weren't running away from the evidence. We were setting a trap of our own.
Julian worked methodically at the wall-mounted media console near the marble fireplace, splicing our stolen ledger files directly into the mansion's closed-circuit broadcast system. Every monitor, every security terminal, and every executive boardroom screen across the corporate network was now slaved to the feed from this room.
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"When Marcus and his security detail arrive to inspect the breach this morning, they won't find an empty room," Julian said, straightening up and wiping a smear of black electrical tape from his thumb. He looked at me, a grim, determined smile touching the corners of his mouth. "They're going to find a live broadcast to the entire board of directors."
I placed the silver letter opener back into the pocket of my black maid's dress, feeling the familiar weight steadying my hands. We turned off the overhead lights, settled into the deep shadows near the tall lace-curtained windows, and waited for the first gray light of morning to break over the gilded moldings.
