Chapter 3 - The Midnight EscapeThe tension in the nursery was so thick it felt physically suffocating.
Victoria stared at me, evaluating the shift in my posture. For five agonizing seconds, neither of us moved. Then, realizing that pushing back too hard might break her carefully crafted facade of a caring mother, she forced a tight smile and stepped aside.
"Of course, darling. Take them," she said softly.
I walked over to the bed, my hands trembling as I unbuckled the tactical latches of the baby harness. As I lifted my son, Oliver, and my daughter, Sophia, away from Emily's chest, Emily let out a soft gasp of physical relief. The babies began to cry softly, disoriented by the movement.
I cradled both infants against my chest, feeling their warm, tiny heartbeats pounding against my ribs. Looking down at Emily, I caught her eye and gave her a single, microscopic nod. Hold on, the look said.
"I'll put them in their cribs in the secondary nursery down the hall," I said, turning away from Victoria. "They shouldn't be in here when the medical team arrives."
"Good idea," Victoria replied, picking up her wine glass. "I'll go down to the kitchen and prepare your tea, Arthur. You look utterly pale."
"Thank you, my love," I said, suppressing the urge to vomit at the word.
I walked out of the room, listening to the sound of Victoria's heels fading down the stairs toward the main floor kitchen. The second her footsteps disappeared into the grand foyer below, I moved with a speed and efficiency I didn't know I possessed.
I carried the twins to the guest bedroom at the far end of the hall, placed them safely inside a portable playpen, and secured the door. Then, I sprinted back to the primary nursery.
I pulled out my pocket knife and sliced through the bloodied linen restraints binding Emily's wrists in two quick strokes.
Emily collapsed forward onto the mattress, clutching her bruised wrists to her chest, her body wracked with silent, violent sob. "Thank you... thank you, Mr. Cole..."
"Can you walk?" I whispered urgently, helping her sit up.
"I... I think so," she gasped, her legs shaking violently as her feet touched the floor. "My son... Leo... I have to get to the hospital..."
"We are both going," I said firmly, grabbing her arm to steady her. "Listen to me very carefully, Emily. Victoria called a fake psychiatric crew—they aren't here to evaluate you, they're here to institutionalize you so you can't talk. We have less than ten minutes."
Emily's eyes widened in horror. "What about the babies?"
"They're coming with us. All four of us are leaving right now."
I guided Emily out of the nursery and down the back service staircase that led toward the five-car garage. Every creak of the wooden steps sounded like a gunshot in the silent house. My heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against my chest.
When we reached the bottom landing near the mudroom, I grabbed two heavy winter coats, wrapped Emily in one, and directed her to wait beside the side exit door. Then, I rushed back to the secondary nursery, gathered the twins into their portable car seats, and carried them down the rear stairs.
As we reached the door leading into the garage, the faint sound of a heavy vehicle pulling up the main gravel driveway echoed through the house. Through the frosted glass of the mudroom window, I saw red and blue emergency lights flashing—not from an official city ambulance, but from an unmarked, dark blue van belonging to a private security firm known as Apex Medical Logistics.
Victoria's transport had arrived.
"In the car! Now!" I hissed, pressing the automatic garage door opener and unlocking my heavy-duty SUV.
I strapped the twins into the back seat while Emily scrambled into the passenger side, pulling the coat tightly around her bruised neck. I jumped into the driver's seat, slammed the engine start button, and shifted the transmission into reverse.
The garage door was only halfway open when I slammed my foot on the accelerator.
The tires shrieked against the polished concrete floor as the heavy SUV surged backward out of the bay, spraying gravel as I swung the wheel around.
Headlights blinded me. The dark blue transport van was blocking half the driveway. Standing beside the front porch was Victoria, holding her wine glass, surrounded by three burly men dressed in tactical medical gear.
When the headlights of my SUV illuminated Victoria's face, her mask of elegant perfection shattered completely. Her mouth twisted into a snarl of pure rage.
"Arthur! Stop the car!" she shrieked, pointing wildly at my vehicle. "Grab them! Don't let that car leave!"
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The three guards lunged toward my vehicle, but I didn't hesitate. I slammed my foot onto the gas pedal, swerving hard onto the pristine front lawn, tearing up the manicured grass and smashing through a row of decorative hedges.
The SUV bucked wildly as it cleared the curb, tires spinning on the pavement before catching traction, tearing down the dark suburban street and leaving Victoria's screams fading into the night behind us.
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