Chapter 20 - The Knock on the Midnight Door
It was past midnight on New Year's Eve. The city of Boston was alive with distant fireworks echoing over the frozen harbor, their colorful bursts painting the winter sky in brilliant flashes of gold, crimson, and emerald.
Clara and Nico stood side by side on the wrought-iron balcony of their Beacon Hill townhouse, wrapped in a heavy cashmere blanket, watching the celebration below. A glass of champagne rested on the small stone ledge between them, bubbles fizzing softly in the crisp night air.
"Happy New Year, Mrs. Vale," Nico whispered, dropping a soft, lingering kiss onto the crown of her head.
"Happy New Year, Mr. Vale," Clara replied, turning in his embrace to wrap her arms tightly around his waist, feeling the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat against her palm. "I don't think I’ll ever need to make another Christmas wish again. Everything I ever dreamed of is right here."
Nico smiled, tightening his arms around her as the final countdown from the city square echoed faintly through the snowy air. *Ten, nine, eight, seven...*
Before the clock could strike zero, however, a sharp, frantic sound pierced the romantic quiet of the balcony.
*Thud. Thud. Thud.*
It wasn't the wind. It was heavy, desperate pounding coming from the front door down on the ground floor of the townhouse.
Nico froze. The relaxed, tender warmth in his dark eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, razor-sharp alertness. He dropped his arm from Clara’s waist and turned toward the open balcony doors leading back into the darkened study.
Clara’s breath hitched in her throat, a sudden, cold knot forming in her stomach. "Nico? At this hour? Who could possibly—"
Before she could finish her sentence, a loud crash echoed from the foyer below, followed by the shattering of glass and the distinct, unmistakable sound of a heavy security door being forced open from the outside.
Nico raised a hand, signaling Clara to stay back behind him as he stepped into the study, his hand sliding instantly into his inner coat pocket where his concealed phone—linked directly to armed private security—rested.
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"Stay here," Nico commanded in a voice of absolute, terrifying steel.
As he stepped out of the study toward the grand staircase, the front entryway lights flickered violently and died, plunging the lower floor into absolute darkness. From the shadows of the foyer, a slow, gravelly voice echoed up the stairwell—a voice that made Clara’s blood run completely ice-cold, a voice belonging to someone they both thought was locked away forever.
