Chapter 5 - The Glass House ShattersThe silence that followed the end of the video file was absolute, terrifying, and total.
Harrison stood frozen behind his desk, staring at the black laptop screen where his brother’s face had just been illuminated in high-definition betrayals.
Slowly, deliberately, Harrison turned his head toward the service door.
Just minutes ago, he had sent his six-year-old son upstairs into the nursery... alone with Carter.
"Harrison..." Victoria whimpered from the sofa, her voice barely a breath. "Harrison, please, it wasn't what it looks like—"
Harrison didn't answer her. He didn't scream. He didn't throw a single piece of furniture.
He moved with terrifying, explosive speed. He grabbed the heavy brass key off the center table, unlocked the grand salon doors, and tore up the marble staircase three steps at a time, pulling a sleek, black 9mm pistol from his inner coat holster as he ran.
"Carter!" Harrison roared, his voice echoing through the vaulted corridors of the second floor like thunder.
He reached the heavy oak doors of the master nursery at the end of the east wing. The two security guards he had assigned to watch the door were lying unconscious on the carpet, bleeding from heavy blunt-force wounds to the back of their heads.
The nursery door was deadbolted from the inside.
Harrison didn't bother trying the handle. He raised his boot and kicked the lock with hydraulic force.
BANG.
The oak frame splintered. He kicked it a second time, and the doors flew inward, slamming against the drywall.
Inside, the room was dimly lit by a single nightlight. Standing near the open balcony window, with the freezing rain blowing inside, was Carter. He had a heavy leather duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and in his right arm, he was holding eight-year-old Julian, his hand clamped tightly over the boy’s mouth.
Julian was struggling violently, his little boots kicking against Carter’s shins.
"Put him down, Carter," Harrison said, his voice dropping into a low, flat whisper as he raised the 9mm, leveling the sight directly between his brother's eyes.
Carter froze, his breathing ragged, his face pale and slick with rain. "Harry... Harry, put the gun down. You don't understand the full picture—"
"I saw the video, Carter," Harrison interrupted, taking a slow, measured step into the room. "I saw you handing the money to the men who took Eleanor. I saw you standing beside Victoria."
Carter let out a harsh, bitter laugh, his grip tightening around the boy. "The video? You think this was about money? Harry, you inherited everything! Father gave you sixty percent of the voting stock, the mansion, the shipping lines! What did I get? A seat on the board and a salary! Victoria offered me fifty percent of the liquid assets if I helped her clear the table!"
"She lied to you, Carter," Harrison said, his finger hovering over the trigger. "And you traded your sister-in-law and your nephew for a promise from a snake."
"I took him six years ago to keep him alive!" Carter screamed, his eyes wild with manic panic. "Victoria wanted the boy dead in the car crash with Eleanor! I bribed the driver to drop the boy at the cabin in Vermont instead! I saved his life, Harry!"
"You locked a two-year-old child in an abandoned timber cabin and left him to rot!" Harrison snarled.
Suddenly, little Julian bit down hard on Carter’s thumb.
Carter yelled in pain, his grip loosening for a fraction of a second. Julian twisted out of his arms, dropping to the floor, and scrambled across the carpet toward his father.
Harrison didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, pulled Julian behind his leg, and struck Carter across the jaw with the heavy steel frame of the pistol.
CRACK.
Carter collapsed back through the open balcony window, crashing onto the wet stone terrace outside, groaning in agony as blood spilled from his split lip.
Harrison stepped out onto the balcony, towering over his bleeding brother, pointing the gun straight at his chest.
"The police are already on their way, Carter," Harrison whispered, his sea-green eyes burning with absolute, uncompromising wrath. "And by the time I'm done with you, Victoria, and her mother... you will spend the rest of your natural lives wishing you had drowned in that bay six years ago."
Down in the courtyard below, the blue and red lights of five state police cruisers began to flash through the autumn rain, their sirens wailing in the distance like an choir of judgment.
Harrison lowered his weapon, turned around, and knelt down in the open doorway of the nursery.
Little Julian walked over, slipping his small, cold hand into his father's palm.
"Is Mommy coming home now, Daddy?" the boy asked softly.
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Harrison looked into his son’s eyes, a fresh tear cutting down his face, and for the first time in six years, he felt the heavy, suffocating darkness of Oakridge Manor finally begin to break.
"Yes, Julian," Harrison whispered, pulling his son into his arms. "We're going to find her together."
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