Gunshots echoed through the lower level.
Two sharp cracks.
The doctor dropped to the floor, pulling his medical kit over his head.
Noah shrieked, burying his face into Julian’s lapel.
Julian moved with terrifying speed.
He kicked the nursery door shut, slid the heavy brass deadbolt into place, and dragged a heavy oak armoire across the entrance.
“Rachel, into the bathroom. Now.”
I ran into the master nursery bath.
Julian followed, carrying Noah, and locked the reinforced inner door behind us.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs.
Heavy.
Fast.
Desperate.
“Julian!” Greg Vance bellowed through the hall.
“Open the door, you arrogant bastard!”
Another gunshot splintered the oak door outside in the nursery.
Wood cracked.
Julian handed Noah to me and stepped toward the counter, pulling an antique brass letter opener from the vanity drawer.
It was useless against a gun, but he gripped it with white knuckles anyway.
“Greg,” Julian shouted through the bathroom door. “The police have this entire county surrounded. There is nowhere to run.”
A ragged, unhinged laugh came from the nursery.
“You think I care about running, Julian?” Greg yelled back, his voice ragged from panting.
“The embezzlement audit comes back tomorrow morning!”
“Sixty million dollars missing from the private accounts!”
“Vanessa and Thomas were supposed to keep you tied up in Dallas with a custody investigation while I wired the offshore reserves!”
My stomach plunged.
The iron.
The burned baby.
The framed nanny.
It was never just about the trust fund.
It was a distraction.
A sickening smokescreen to keep Julian out of the corporate offices while Greg emptied the company vaults.
“You tried to maim an infant to cover up an audit?” Julian’s voice shook with disgust.
“That brat cost me everything!” Greg roared, kicking against the bathroom door.
The wood bowed under the impact.
The lock groaned.
Noah sobbed against my neck, trembling violently.
I squeezed into the space between the marble tub and the wall, using my body as a human shield over the baby.
“Step back from that door, Greg!” Julian warned.
“Give me the master encryption keys to the treasury server,” Greg snarled, kicking the door again.
“Give me the keys, or I burn this entire floor down with all three of you inside!”
The lock snapped.
The bathroom door swung open on broken hinges.
Greg stood in the doorway, soaked in rain and smelling of gunpowder, pointing the black barrel of his pistol straight at Julian’s head.
He pulled the hammer back with a cold metallic click.
“Last chance, Julian.”
Before Greg could squeeze the trigger, a shadow rose behind him in the shattered doorway of the nursery.