Chapter 52: The Ambulance

Marcus drove like he argued—coldly, efficiently, and with zero regard for the laws of man or physics. We careened down the winding driveway, the mansion disappearing behind a veil of ancient oaks.

"Where is he taking the boys?" I asked, gripping the dashboard.

"The airstrip," Marcus said, not taking his eyes off the road. "Gabriel has a plane waiting. A small Cessna he bought with shell company money five years ago."

"How do you know?"

"Because I helped him set up the shell company," Marcus said. "I thought he was using it to hide assets from Eleanor. I didn't know he was planning an extraction."

I stared at him. "You were working with him? This whole time?"

"I was hedging my bets, Elena. The Vane empire was crumbling. Gabriel offered a contingency plan."

"And now?"

"Now the plan has changed. Gabriel is dead. The Trust is exposed. And you..." He glanced at me. "You are the only person left with legal standing to challenge Eleanor."

"Eleanor is in handcuffs," I said.

"Eleanor has lawyers," Marcus countered. "Expensive ones. She'll be out on bail by morning. Unless we have something she can't buy."

"We have the ledgers," I said, patting the manila envelope.

"Ledgers are just numbers," Marcus said. "We need a witness. We need Catherine."

"Catherine is..." I trailed off. I didn't know where Catherine was. I had left her at the school recital, under Eleanor's thumb.

"Catherine is with the police," Marcus said. "Or she will be, once they finish processing the scene at the school. If we can get to her... if we can get her to testify that the marriage was coerced... that the children were stolen..."

"Then Eleanor goes away for life," I finished. "And Richard."

"And Richard," Marcus agreed.

We hit the main road. Marcus floored it.

"But first," he said. "We have to get the boys."

The private airstrip was a strip of tarmac cut into the marshlands south of the city. A single hangar stood at the far end, its corrugated metal roof gleaming in the moonlight.

A small plane sat on the runway, its propellers spinning.

I saw a figure moving near the plane. A man, herding two small children toward the open door.

"It's him," I whispered. "But you said Gabriel was dead."

"I said Gabriel burned," Marcus corrected. "I didn't check for a pulse."

I stared at the figure. He moved with a limp, favoring his left leg. He was burned, his clothes charred, his face a mask of soot and blood.

But he was alive.

"He survived the fire," I said. "He must have used the same vent I did."

Marcus slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a halt fifty yards from the plane.

"Stay here," he ordered, reaching under his seat. He pulled out a second gun. "I'll handle this."

"No," I said, opening my door. "They're my sons."

I ran toward the plane.

Gabriel saw me. He stopped, one hand on the door of the Cessna. He raised a gun.

"Stay back, Elena!" he shouted. His voice was a ruin, rasping and raw.

"Let them go, Gabriel!" I screamed. "It's over! Eleanor is arrested! Richard confessed!"

"It's never over!" he yelled. "Not until I have my son!"

"Adam is dead!" I shouted. "He died in the fire! You saw the photo!"

"No!" Gabriel screamed. "He's alive! Eleanor hid him! She hid him to control me!"

He grabbed Leo by the arm, pulling him close. "Tell her! Tell her who you are!"

Leo looked at me, his eyes wide with terror. "Mommy?"

"Let him go!"

I was ten feet away. I could see the madness in Gabriel's eyes. The desperation.

And then I saw something else.

Behind Gabriel, inside the plane, a figure moved.

Someone was already in the cockpit.

The engine roared. The plane lurched forward.

Gabriel stumbled, losing his grip on Leo.

"Run, Leo!" I screamed.

Leo ran. He grabbed Sam's hand and they sprinted toward me.

I fell to my knees, catching them in my arms. They were shaking, sobbing.

I looked up.

Gabriel was clinging to the door of the moving plane. He was screaming at the pilot.

"Stop! Stop the plane!"

The plane picked up speed. Gabriel lost his footing. He fell onto the tarmac, rolling, tumbling.

The plane lifted off.

It banked sharply, turning toward the ocean.

I watched it go. And as it turned, I saw the pilot's face in the window.

It wasn't a stranger.

It was a man I recognized. A man with dark hair and eager eyes. A man who had started as an intern a month ago.

Adam.

Gabriel lay on the tarmac, broken and burned. He watched the plane disappear into the night.

"He left me," Gabriel whispered. "My son left me."

Marcus walked up behind me. He lowered his gun.

"It's over, Elena," he said.

I looked at my sons. I looked at the burning wreckage of my life.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the keys to the house.

"No," I said. "It's just beginning."

I had the ledgers. I had the witness. I had the children.

And Eleanor Vane was in a cell.

I stood up. I took my sons' hands.

We had a house to clean.

And tonight, for the first time in ten years, I was the one holding the broom.