Cole looked at me, assessing my resolve, then gave a curt nod. “Keep behind me. Step where I step.”
We moved silently through the dark, cavernous halls of the mansion, descending a concrete service stairwell that led deep underground. The air grew cool and smelled of high-octane fuel and polished concrete.
Cole bypassed the electronic lock on the garage door with a specialized keycard cloner. The heavy steel door slid open with a soft, hydraulic hiss.
The subterranean garage was massive, lit only by dim security fluorescents. There, sitting in the center of the gleaming collection of luxury vehicles, was the matte black Urus. It looked like a resting predator in the dark.
We hurried to the passenger side. Cole popped the door with a localized relay tool, slipping inside with a muted flashlight. I knelt beside the open door, ignoring the sharp protest in my lower back, and pointed under the dashboard.
“The panel beneath the glovebox,” I whispered, holding the flashlight steady for him. “Pop the retaining clips. The black box is encased in aluminum, wired directly to the camera’s main line.”
Cole worked with terrifying speed, his pry tools snapping the plastic clips loose. He reached up, his fingers brushing against a heavy metal square. “Got it. Detaching the harnesses now.”
He pulled the small, aluminum-cased hard drive out of the cavity, holding it up in the dim light. Victory surged through my chest. It was right there. The proof. The truth that would destroy Arthur Vance.
Suddenly, the massive overhead garage lights slammed on, blinding us with the brilliance of an operating room.
My heart stopped.
Standing ten feet away, leaning casually against a concrete pillar, was Arthur Vance. He was wearing dark trousers and a black button-down shirt. Beside him, looming like a nightmare, was Marcus.
“I was wondering when you’d figure it out,” Arthur said, his voice echoing loudly in the concrete space.
Cole reacted instantly, stepping in front of me and reaching into his jacket. But Marcus was terrifyingly fast. The giant surged forward, closing the distance in three strides. He hit Cole like a freight train, driving a massive fist into Cole’s ribs, dropping the investigator to the concrete with a sickening crunch. The aluminum hard drive clattered across the floor.
I screamed, stepping backward, tripping over my own feet.
Marcus planted a heavy boot squarely on Cole’s back, keeping him pinned to the floor, before bending down and picking up the hard drive. He tossed it casually to Arthur.
Arthur caught the drive. He walked toward me slowly, shaking his head with a mock expression of pity.
“You really thought I’d leave a physical vulnerability in my own vehicle, Sarah?” Arthur asked. He looked down at the aluminum box in his hand. “You’re right. This is the localized backup. The insurance requirement. The un-wipeable physical truth.”
Arthur dropped the hard drive onto the concrete floor.
He lifted his foot and stomped his heavy leather heel directly onto the center of the aluminum case. A loud crack echoed through the garage as the delicate internal disks shattered into a hundred useless pieces. He ground his heel into the electronics for good measure, destroying the last piece of evidence in the world.
Tears of pure devastation leaked from my eyes. I sank back against the cold side of a vintage Porsche, gripping my belly. I had failed. The proof was gone. My mother’s justice was gone. My baby’s safety was gone.
Arthur crouched down so he was eye-level with me. The cruelty in his eyes was absolute.
“I told you what would happen,” Arthur whispered, his voice deadly serious. “Your little friend on the floor is going to the hospital. And tomorrow at nine a.m., you will not show up to the boardroom. You will run. You will run far away, and you will never use the Vance name again. If you stay, Marcus is going to arrange another accident for you on your way home. Do we understand each other?”
I stared at the crushed pieces of plastic and metal on the floor, my hope bleeding out onto the concrete. I gave a microscopic, broken nod.
Arthur smiled. He stood up, signaled to Marcus, and the two men walked to a different elevator bank on the far side of the garage, leaving me trembling in the cold, staring at my ruined future.
The heavy garage door locked behind them. I crawled over to Cole, who was groaning in pain, trying to sit up.
“I’m sorry,” I sobbed, helping him lean against the tire. “I’m so sorry. He destroyed it.”
Cole coughed, wincing, but his eyes suddenly darted over my shoulder. He stared at the far corner of the massive garage. “Sarah,” he rasped.
I turned my head.
Mounted high on the concrete pillar, completely hidden in the shadows, was a sleek, high-definition estate security camera. Its red light was blinking steadily. And it was pointed directly at the parking space where the Lamborghini was resting.
“It’s a garage camera,” I whispered, confused. “It wouldn't have captured what happened in the crosswalk this morning. It only proves he crushed a box tonight.”
“No,” Cole grunted, forcing himself up. “You don't understand how billionaire paranoia works. Sterling told me. The Vance estate server is paranoid about Arthur’s corporate espionage. Every time an executive vehicle pulls into this garage and connects to the home Wi-Fi network, the estate mainframe automatically clones the vehicle’s local hard drive data as a redundant backup.”
My mind raced. I looked from the camera, to the car, and then to Cole.
“Are you saying…?”
“Arthur wiped his cloud from his phone,” Cole grinned, wincing as he held his ribs. “He just crushed the physical box. But when he drove that Lamborghini into this garage this afternoon, the house server stole a copy of everything on that dashcam. And the house server isn't controlled by Vance Tech. It’s controlled by your father.”