Chapter 3 - The Traitor Under Spencer’s Roof
Jonathan survived the shooting.
While doctors operated, Spencer ordered a complete security lockdown at the mansion.
No staff member could leave.
Victoria objected immediately.
“This is absurd,” she said. “You’re treating us like criminals.”
“Jocelyn named you before she disappeared.”
Victoria did not blink.
“A frightened woman can say anything.”
“She knew about Dexter.”
At the mention of the baby, Victoria’s composure shifted.
Only slightly.
But Spencer noticed.
“Where is the child now?” she asked.
“Safe.”
“Under whose protection?”
“Mine.”
Victoria smiled.
“You still don’t know whether he belongs to you.”
“DNA results will arrive tomorrow.”
“And if he does?”
Spencer stepped closer.
“Then whoever left him to die outside my gate will never see freedom again.”
Victoria held his gaze.
“You sound like your father.”
“No. My father allowed this family to bury inconvenient people. I won’t.”
Spencer assembled everyone who had access to the mansion’s private wing.
Mrs. Mabel.
The chef.
Two security guards.
His personal assistant, Evan Cross.
His cousin Nathan Warren.
Victoria.
And Malcolm Reed, the family attorney who had served the Warrens for thirty years.
The cuff link recovered at Jocelyn’s apartment had originally been issued to Spencer, his father, Nathan, Malcolm and two deceased executives.
Spencer still possessed his.
His father’s was stored in a bank vault.
Nathan displayed both of his.
Malcolm claimed he had lost one several years earlier.
“You never reported it?” Spencer asked.
“It was jewelry, not a weapon.”
“Now it’s evidence.”
Malcolm’s face remained calm.
Spencer had trusted him since childhood.
When his father died, Malcolm had helped him survive the boardroom battle that followed.
He had drafted Spencer’s will.
Managed the family trusts.
And known the security password protecting the frozen genetic samples.
Pamela said only three people knew it.
Pamela.
Spencer.
And Malcolm.
Police searched Malcolm’s office.
They found no cuff link.
No letters.
No direct connection to Jocelyn.
Then Charlee noticed something.
She was sitting in the library coloring when Malcolm walked past.
She pointed at his shoes.
“That’s the man from the apartment.”
Everyone became silent.
Malcolm stopped.
“What did you say?”
“I saw those shoes when I hid under Jocelyn’s bed.”
Spencer crouched beside Charlee.
“You were there?”
She nodded.
“The night Jocelyn disappeared. Grandma was sick, so I went to ask Jocelyn for food. Two men came inside. I hid.”
“Did you see their faces?”
“No. But one had shiny black shoes with a gold line across the heel.”
Malcolm looked down.
His custom shoes had a narrow gold strip around the heel.
“That proves nothing,” he said.
Charlee continued.
“He smelled like oranges and smoke.”
Malcolm always smoked imported cigars infused with citrus oil.
Spencer’s expression darkened.
“Search him.”
Security found a burner phone in Malcolm’s coat.
The most recent message had been sent to an unknown number.
The child is still in the mansion. Florence has spoken. We need to move tonight.
Malcolm bolted.
He shoved Mrs. Mabel aside and ran toward the side entrance.
Security tackled him before he reached the door.
Under questioning, he refused to speak.
Then every light in the mansion went out.
The backup generators failed.
An alarm sounded from the nursery.
Spencer ran upstairs.
Smoke filled the hallway.
The nursery door had been locked from the outside.
Inside, Dexter screamed.
Spencer slammed his shoulder into the door.
It did not move.
Charlee appeared behind him.
“There’s another way!”
She led him into the old linen room and pointed toward a narrow service passage Mrs. Mabel had shown her.
Spencer crawled through the darkness while smoke burned his throat.
He entered the nursery through a hidden panel.
Dexter lay in his crib.
Flames climbed the curtains.
Spencer wrapped the baby in a blanket and turned toward the passage.
Then he heard pounding from inside the wardrobe.
He opened it.
Jocelyn collapsed into his arms.
Her wrists were bound.
Her face was bruised.
“They kept me in the tunnels,” she gasped. “They were going to let the fire kill us both.”
Spencer carried Dexter while Jocelyn crawled behind him.
They escaped seconds before the nursery windows exploded.
Outside, firefighters surrounded the mansion.
Malcolm was gone.
Someone had released him during the blackout.
Victoria was also missing.
And Charlee stood alone in the rain, staring at the burning upper floor.
“They took Grandma,” she whispered.
Spencer turned toward the hospital security vehicle.
Its driver was unconscious.
Florence’s wheelchair lay overturned beside the curb.
A note was pinned to it.
May you like
Trade the children for the company. Midnight. Warren Textile Mill. Come alone.
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