Chapter 6 - The Midnight Raid
By midnight, the mansion was buried in complete silence.
The rain was coming down hard against the windows, masking the sounds of the night. Inside Richard’s suite, the deadbolt was locked.
Richard stood by the desk, holding the hardware keycard I had lifted from Ethan’s pocket. He plugged it into a high-speed cloning device connected to his encrypted satellite laptop. A blue LED bar flashed rapidly: COPYING ENCRYPTION ALGORITHM... 88%... 100%... COMPLETE.
He ejected the original keycard and handed it back to me. "You need to return this to Ethan’s study before he realizes it’s missing during his morning routine."
"I'll put it in his briefcase," I said. "He left it on the desk in the home office."
"Maya," Richard said, stopping me as I reached for the door. He looked at me, his dark eyes filled with a deep, quiet concern that sent a warm tremor through my chest. "Once we download the master server logs tonight, Ethan and Vitalis will know someone breached their network within hours. This house will become extremely dangerous."
"I'm not leaving until we finish this, Richard," I said softly. "They destroyed your life, and they tried to erase mine. We finish it together."
He looked at me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Together."
I slipped out of the suite, wearing dark non-slip shoes and dark clothes. I moved like a shadow down the carpeted corridors of the west wing, descending the wide marble staircase to the ground floor.
The mansion’s security system was complex, but Richard had provided me with the internal override codes he had memorized before his crash. I reached the double oak doors of Ethan’s private study in the east wing.
I swiped the cloned keycard through the biometric keypad.
CLICK.
The heavy lock disengaged with a soft pneumatic hiss. I slid into the room, closing the door behind me, leaving it slightly ajar to listen for footsteps.
The study smelled of expensive leather, old scotch, and paper. A massive mahogany desk sat in the center of the room beneath a floating glass shelf.
I quickly walked over to the leather sofa where Ethan’s briefcase was sitting, unzipped the front pocket, and slid the original keycard back inside.
"Step one complete," I whispered to myself.
I turned to the wall safe hidden behind a dark oil painting near the window. I entered the eight-digit master code Richard had given me: 0-8-1-2-1-9-7-4.
The safe door clicked open.
Inside lay three thick leather-bound ledgers, several offshore bank tokens, and a sleek, black solid-state hard drive stamped with the proprietary seal of Vance BioMedical’s chief legal council.
This was it: the master server key—containing the unredacted clinical data of Vance BioMedical’s automated drug delivery patents, as well as the secret off-shore payment logs between Ethan Vance and Vitalis Health.
I reached out, grabbed the drive, and plugged a portable wireless bridge adapter into its USB port.
"Richard," I whispered into my earpiece. "The bridge is live. Start the remote download."
"Copying now, Maya," Richard’s voice came through the tiny earpiece, cool and steady. "Data transfer at 20%. Keep your eyes on the hall."
I stood by the window, keeping my eyes fixed on the dim corridor outside the study door. The rain drummed relentlessly against the glass.
30%... 50%... 70%...
Suddenly, a floorboard creaked in the hallway outside.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I froze, sinking low into the shadows behind the mahogany desk.
Footsteps were approaching—slow, heavy, faltering footsteps.
The study door was pushed fully open. A silhouette stood in the doorway, illuminated by the dim nightlights of the hall.
It wasn't Ethan. It wasn't Chloe.
It was Miguel.
He was holding a half-empty glass of whiskey, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, smelling heavily of alcohol. He had stayed overnight in the guest suite following the dinner.
"I know you're in here, Maya," Miguel slurred, stepping into the room, shutting the door behind him. He reached out and flipped on a small desk lamp.
The warm yellow light flooded the study, catching me standing beside the open safe.
Miguel’s eyes widened as he looked at the open safe, then at the black hard drive plugged into the wireless adapter, and finally at my face.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Miguel gasped, his drunkenness instantly evaporating, replaced by a surge of panic. "Are you robbing the house?!"
"Get out of here, Miguel," I said, stepping between him and the safe, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "This doesn't concern you."
"Doesn't concern me?!" Miguel shouted softly, rushing forward, grabbing my shoulder with violent force. "You're stealing corporate data! If Ethan finds out you're in here, he'll call the police! He'll ruin you! And he'll think I was part of it because you're my ex-wife!"
"Let go of me, Miguel," I said, staring directly into his eyes.
"You ruin everything!" he snarled, his face twisting with rage. "You ruined my dinner tonight! You embarrassed me in front of Valerie and the board! You were supposed to be quietly suffering in some pathetic apartment, showing everyone how much you needed me! Instead, you come here and try to sabotage my merger?!"
"Maya, download is at 95%," Richard’s voice crackled in my earpiece. "What's happening down there?"
Miguel saw the tiny earpiece in my ear. His eyes went wide with sudden, terrifying comprehension.
"Who are you talking to...?" Miguel whispered. He looked toward the ceiling, toward the west wing where Richard’s room was located. "The paralyzed guy...? No... no way..."
He lunged for the hard drive on the desk. "I'm calling Ethan!"
I didn't hesitate. Four years of physical therapy training meant I knew human anatomy and leverage better than he ever would.
I grabbed Miguel’s extended wrist, stepped inside his frame, and drove my elbow violently into his nerve cluster right below his ribs.
Miguel let out a wheezing gasp, his air completely cut off. Before he could recover, I twisted his arm behind his back, slammed his face down onto the mahogany desk, and jammed my knee hard into the back of his thigh.
He groaned in agony, pinned helplessly against the wood.
"100%," Richard said in my ear. "Data secured. Get out now."
I yanked the wireless bridge adapter off the hard drive, snatched the drive, closed the safe door, and leaned down close to Miguel’s ear.
May you like
"Ofelia was wrong about one thing, Miguel," I whispered, my voice cold as ice as he squirmed under my knee. "I don't need your money. I don't need your house. And by tomorrow morning... you won't have either."
I applied pressure to his carotid artery for three seconds—just enough to make his vision go black and send him sliding limp to the floor—then slipped out of the study and vanished into the dark hallway.
