PART 2: I Returned Home to Catch My Housekeeper Manipulating My Daughters—Instead, I Discovered Why Someone Wanted Her Gone 3-038

By 10:00 PM, the city was blanketed in a heavy, cold rain. The rain lashed against the windshield of my black SUV as Mateo and I sat parked two blocks away from the Apex Global Transport facility in the industrial port district. The area was deserted, lined with rusted shipping containers and looming metal warehouses.

"My tech guys intercepted Patricia’s cell tower pings," Mateo said, monitoring a laptop screen on his lap. "She arrived ten minutes ago. She’s inside building 4B with Julian Vance."

"Are the cameras live?" I asked, checking the clip on my concealed sidearm. I hadn't carried a weapon in years, but tonight, dealing with the monsters who murdered my wife, I wasn't taking any chances.

"We tapped into their internal security feed," Mateo nodded, turning the laptop screen toward me.

On the high-definition display, I saw the interior of a massive, dimly lit office inside the warehouse. Patricia was pacing back and forth, her designer coat soaked from the rain, gesturing wildly at a tall, muscular man with graying hair sitting behind a heavy metal desk. On his right hand, reflecting the fluorescent lights, was a heavy platinum signet ring featuring a white falcon.

Julian Vance.

"You idiot!" Patricia’s voice came through the audio tap, sharp and frantic. "Ethan was staring at me today like he knew! That pathetic nanny has been talking to the little girl. The kid remembers the logo, Julian! She remembers your ring!"

Vance didn't panic. He slowly stood up, leaning his heavy frame over the desk. "Calm down, Patricia. A five-year-old’s testimony isn't going to hold up in court without hard evidence. The truck involved in that crash was dismantled and sold for scrap in Mexico eighteen months ago. There is no physical paper trail linking Apex to that highway."

"You don't understand Ethan Whitaker!" Patricia shouted. "He doesn't need a court of law to destroy us! If he suspects even one percent of the truth, he will use his money and his influence to bury us both! We need to frame the nanny. If she’s arrested for stealing or endangering the children, Ethan will discard everything she’s told him!"

"Framing the nanny takes time," Vance replied coldly. "If the girl is the leak, we handle the leak."

My blood ran cold. The air left my lungs as I watched Vance pull a sleek black pistol from his desk drawer and slide a silencer onto the barrel.

"What are you doing?" Patricia gasped, taking a step back. "You can't touch the girls!"

"I'm not touching the girls," Vance growled. "I'm paying a late-night visit to the Whitaker estate. A tragic home invasion. The nanny gets eliminated, the kids get terrified into silence, and Ethan gets a warning he can't ignore. If he’s dead too, your trust fund activates tomorrow."

Patricia froze, her eyes wide with terror and greed, but she didn't stop him. She didn't say no.

I slapped the laptop closed. "We move now," I told Mateo, my voice laced with lethal intent. "Call the state tactical unit I put on standby. Tell them to breach the perimeter."

"Ethan, wait for the police!" Mateo warned, grabbing my arm. "If you go in there now—"

"He’s planning to go to my house where my daughters and Clara are!" I snapped, breaking his grip. "I'm ending this tonight."

I threw open the SUV door and stepped into the pouring rain. Armed with rage and the absolute drive to protect my family, I sprinted toward the side entrance of Building 4B. The metal door was locked, but a heavy iron pipe from a nearby construction bin made quick work of the lock mechanism.

I burst into the warehouse facility just as Vance was walking toward the back exit. The heavy metallic clatter of the breaking door echoed through the empty structure.

Vance turned instantly, raising his suppressed pistol. "Who’s there?"

I stepped out from behind a row of wooden crates, illuminated by the harsh overhead floodlights. "The man whose life you tried to steal, Vance."