Chapter 4 - The Descent
Grace was wrapped in a heavy wool blanket when Ethan carried her out of the west wing. Her feet were bare, her ankles swollen and bruised from the iron shackles, but as Ethan set her gently into the leather-lined interior of the car, she reached up and touched his cheek with fingers that no longer trembled.
“Are we really leaving?” she asked, her voice small and wondering against the roar of the wind outside.
“We’re going home,” Ethan said, sliding in beside her and pulling the heavy door shut against the rain. “The real home. Just you, me, and him.”
Martin stood by the open driver’s door, his face pale in the light of the dashboard. He didn’t look at Ethan; his eyes were fixed on the wet gravel between his shoes.
“Mr. Ethan,” the old butler said quietly. “The gate codes have been reset from the main house. You won’t be able to exit through the front pillars unless I override the system from the lodge.”
Ethan reached into his pocket, pulled out his heavy brass keyring, and detached the small silver key that had belonged to his father. He pressed it into Martin’s hand.
“Then override it, Martin,” Ethan said. “And take your severance from the safe in my mother’s study before you leave. I won’t have you starving on the road because of her mistakes.”
May you like
Martin looked down at the key in his palm, his old lips trembling slightly. “Thank you, Mr. Ethan. God protect that boy.”
The car rolled forward down the winding gravel drive, the headlights cutting two bright tunnels through the thick curtain of the New York rain. Behind them, Caldwell House loomed against the dark sky—a vast, silent mountain of stone and dark windowpanes where one solitary light still burned in the upper west wing, fading slowly into the gray dawn of a new day.
