Chapter 4 - The Tipping Point
The event that shattered everything came on a Tuesday. We were in the conservatory, Ethan was learning to use a walker, when the windows blew out.
It wasn't a bomb. It was a targeted sonic strike, the kind of professional hit that signaled an internal coup within the Blackwell syndicate. Men poured over the walls—not the usual security, but elite contractors dressed in black, their faces hidden behind tactical masks.
"Vivi, run!" Ethan screamed, trying to push his walker toward the hidden servant’s passage.
I didn't run. I pulled Ethan into the small alcove behind the massive fountain, my heart hammering. I had spent my life preparing for the unexpected, and I knew how to use the house’s layout to our advantage.
I grabbed a fire axe from the wall mount, my training in the service coming back to me in a rush of muscle memory. I had been a protection detail for the state, a woman who had walked away because I wanted a quiet life. I had forgotten who I was until I saw the first man step into the conservatory.
I didn't give him a chance. I moved with a speed that startled even me, the axe finding its mark before he could level his rifle.
"Stay behind me, Ethan," I commanded.
We moved through the house like ghosts. We used the service chutes, the ventilation shafts, and the knowledge I had gathered over eight months of cleaning. We were closing in on the master suite when we found Nathan, pinned down behind a mahogany desk, his shoulder bleeding profusely.
"Vivi?" he gasped, his eyes widening.
"The passage in the library leads to the underground garage," I said, sliding an extra magazine from a fallen guard into my pocket. "Get him out."
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Nathan looked at me, then at the combat-ready woman standing over his son. "Who the hell are you?"
"I’m the maid," I said, turning to face the hallway. "And I’m going to finish this."
