Chapter 3 - The Tunnel Under the Mansion
Ethan ran before anyone could stop him.
I followed.
Daniel shouted orders into his radio while guards flooded the east wing.
“Noah!”
My voice echoed through the corridor.
No answer.
We reached the servants’ staircase.
A wheelchair track marked the runner carpet.
Two narrow lines.
Fresh.
“They went down,” I said.
Ethan descended three stairs at a time.
The servant stairs led to the kitchen.
Noah wasn’t there.
But the tracks continued.
Through the pantry.
Toward a door I had never noticed.
Daniel arrived.
“Old service tunnel.”
Ethan looked at him.
“You told me it was sealed.”
“It was.”
The lock hung broken.
Daniel’s face changed.
“Someone cut it.”
Ethan entered.
I followed.
He turned.
“No.”
“I’m coming.”
“Mara—”
“If Noah wakes up scared, he needs someone he knows.”
“He knows me.”
I looked at him.
“He’s afraid of you when you’re angry.”
That landed.
Ethan lowered the gun slightly.
Then nodded.
“Stay behind me.”
The tunnel smelled of dust and damp stone.
Old pipes ran overhead.
The wheelchair tracks were visible in dirt.
We followed.
Every thirty feet, Daniel marked our position.
“Tunnel exits where?” I asked.
“Old garage.”
“Outside the security perimeter?”
“No.”
Daniel hesitated.
“Technically.”
Ethan looked back.
“What does technically mean?”
“There’s a storm drain beneath the outer wall.”
“Big enough?”
“For a person.”
Ethan cursed.
We moved faster.
Then we heard Noah.
“Mara?”
It came from ahead.
Weak.
Terrified.
I ran.
Ethan caught up immediately.
“Noah!”
A small cry answered.
We rounded a corner.
The wheelchair sat beneath a bare bulb.
Empty.
My heart stopped.
“Noah?”
A door creaked.
I saw a hand.
Tiny fingers.
“Noah.”
He stepped from behind a stack of crates.
Barefoot.
Shaking.
Alive.
I dropped to my knees.
He ran into me.
“She left me.”
“Who?”
“The lady.”
“Which lady?”
He buried his face against my shoulder.
Ethan approached slowly.
“Noah.”
The boy looked at him.
“Dad.”
Ethan crouched.
For a moment he couldn’t speak.
Then he pulled Noah into his arms.
I had never seen Ethan cry.
That night I did.
One tear.
He wiped it away so quickly Noah probably missed it.
I didn’t.
“Did she hurt you?”
“No.”
“Who brought you here?”
Noah shook his head.
“I promised.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
I put a hand on his arm.
“Not now.”
He nodded.
Daniel checked the tunnel.
“Whoever took him left this way.”
He pointed toward a rusted door.
It was open.
Beyond it, night air.
Ethan looked furious.
“How?”
Daniel examined the lock.
“Code panel was disabled.”
“By who?”
“Someone with access.”
Again.
Someone inside.
We carried Noah back.
This time Ethan held him the entire way.
By midnight, the mansion was under complete lockdown.
Every employee was interviewed.
Sophie remained missing.
But her car was still parked.
Her phone was found in her room.
Her passport was in her dresser.
She hadn’t planned to leave.
Or she hadn’t gotten the chance.
The laboratory courier arrived at 1:10 a.m.
Ethan refused to let the medication leave with one person.
Two guards accompanied it.
I sat beside Noah.
He slept.
Ethan sat across the room.
Neither of us spoke for a long time.
Finally he said, “You saved him.”
“I noticed something.”
“You saved him.”
I looked at Noah.
“Maybe.”
His voice changed.
“I would have punished you.”
“For stopping the medicine?”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
“Before you explained.”
“I know.”
He looked down.
“That should bother me.”
“It should.”
A strange smile touched his mouth.
“You don’t scare easily.”
“I scare all the time.”
“You hide it.”
“So do you.”
His smile disappeared.
“My son was taken inside my house.”
“But brought back.”
“Because something changed.”
“What?”
He looked toward the door.
“I think whoever took him heard us entering the tunnel.”
“That means they’re still nearby.”
“Yes.”
“Or they wanted him found.”
Ethan’s eyes sharpened.
That possibility was worse.
At two forty-five, Daniel entered.
He held a tablet.
“Lab called.”
Ethan stood.
“Well?”
Daniel looked at me.
“You were right.”
The room went cold.
“What was in it?” I asked.
“Not the medication on the label.”
“What?”
“A compound that causes severe muscle weakness, sedation, neuropathy.”
My skin prickled.
“How long?”
“Regular exposure could create exactly the symptoms Noah developed.”
Ethan’s hands clenched.
Daniel continued.
“The legitimate prescription was mild anticonvulsant medication.”
“So someone replaced it.”
“Yes.”
“How dangerous?”
Daniel hesitated.
“That depends on dosage.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“How dangerous?”
“Enough could stop respiratory muscles.”
Ethan turned away.
I looked at Noah.
He was asleep.
Breathing.
Alive.
Barely because I had noticed a smell.
My hands began shaking.
Ethan saw.
He touched my wrist.
Not romantically.
Just grounding me.
“He’s here.”
I nodded.
Daniel placed another paper down.
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“The compound isn’t commercially available.”
“Where does it come from?”
“Private clinical research.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
“Whose?”
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
“Blackwood Biotech.”
Silence.
The Blackwood family owned several legitimate companies.
Biotechnology was Victoria’s domain.
Ethan stared at Daniel.
“Say that again.”
“The chemical was developed by Blackwood Biotech eight years ago.”
“For what?”
“Neuromuscular studies.”
“Who has access?”
“Restricted personnel.”
“Victoria?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
I remembered her face in the corridor.
Altered?
Poison?
Her instant reaction.
Ethan walked to the window.
“I want everything.”
“Already pulling records.”
“No.”
He turned.
“Everything from the last year. Inventory. Staff. Deliveries. Security. Emails.”
Daniel nodded.
Ethan added, “And Victoria doesn’t leave.”
“She’ll resist.”
“She can resist from inside the house.”
At dawn, Noah woke.
His legs were sore.
But stronger.
We tested his grip.
Normal.
His feet responded.
He moved both knees.
I nearly cried.
Ethan did not leave the room.
He even ate breakfast there.
Noah seemed confused by the attention.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“You have work.”
“Not today.”
“You always have work.”
“Not today.”
Noah smiled.
“Can Mara stay too?”
“Yes.”
Then Noah looked between us.
“Are you guys friends now?”
I choked on coffee.
Ethan actually laughed.
A short sound.
Rare.
“Something like that.”
For two hours, the nightmare loosened.
Then Daniel called.
Ethan answered.
His expression darkened immediately.
“Where?”
Pause.
“Don’t touch anything.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” I asked.
“They found Sophie.”
“Where?”
“The greenhouse.”
My stomach twisted.
“Alive?”
Ethan looked at Noah.
Then at me.
“No.”
We left Noah with Leo and two guards.
The greenhouse stood behind the west garden.
Sophie lay beside a potting bench.
I saw only enough to understand.
No gore.
No struggle.
Just stillness.
A small glass vial lay near her hand.
Daniel stood several feet away.
“Looks like suicide.”
Ethan stared.
“Looks like?”
“No note.”
“Fingerprints?”
“Processing.”
I looked around.
Something bothered me.
Sophie’s shoes.
Clean.
The path outside was wet from sprinklers.
Everyone who entered the greenhouse had muddy soles.
Sophie didn’t.
“She didn’t walk here.”
Daniel followed my gaze.
He crouched.
“You’re right.”
Ethan’s voice went quiet.
“Someone carried her.”
Then I noticed something beneath the bench.
A white pharmacy bag.
Daniel retrieved it.
Inside were three empty prescription bottles.
All labeled for Noah.
Different refill numbers.
Same false medicine.
Ethan’s face hardened.
“Sophie did this.”
“No,” I said.
He looked at me.
“There are bottles beside her body.”
“Exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone wants us to stop looking.”
Daniel nodded slowly.
“Mara’s right.”
Ethan looked toward Sophie.
“Then who killed her?”
I glanced at the glass roof.
A security camera pointed directly at the door.
“Check the footage.”
Daniel did.
He opened the system.
Then frowned.
“What?”
“The greenhouse camera went offline at 11:03.”
“Last recorded image?”
Daniel loaded it.
The final frame appeared.
Sophie entered the greenhouse at 11:02 p.m.
She was not alone.
Someone stood behind her.
Only half the person’s body was visible.
Dark coat.
Gloved hand.
And a distinctive silver ring.
Ethan leaned closer.
His face changed.
I had seen that ring before.
May you like
So had he.
It belonged to the one person in the Blackwood family no one had questioned.
