Chapter 14
1019 Words
## Chapter 14
As night descended on the Finnegan mansion, a collective sense of unease permeated the air despite the crisis having seemingly passed.
The Eastern Holdings representatives had retreated to their hotel, security patrols had doubled around the perimeter, and the broken windows in the conference room had already been replaced with bulletproof glass.
In his temporary quarters, Atlas carefully removed the fake blood and dirt, methodically cleansing away his fabricated heroism. The bathroom mirror reflected back James Reed's face, but behind those artificial features, Atlas Prime's satisfaction burned like a quiet flame.
Across the mansion, Aaron paced in his private study, with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand, his mind replaying the day's events on an endless loop. The deal had nearly collapsed. His life had nearly ended. Yet somehow, improbably, both disasters had been averted by the same man.
"I don't trust him," he muttered to the empty room.
A soft knock interrupted his brooding.
Hannah entered without waiting for a response, her evening gown now replaced by silk pajamas.
"You should be resting," she admonished, taking the glass from his hand and setting it aside. "Today was traumatic for everyone."
Aaron's eyes narrowed. "Don't you find it convenient? Reed warns us of an attack, an attack happens, and then he single-handedly saves the day?"
Hannah sighed, perching on the edge of his desk. "You think he staged it? To what end? Making himself look good?"
"Maybe. Or maybe there's something else going on." Aaron resumed his pacing. "Something about him bothers me. It's like I know him from somewhere."
…
In another wing of the sprawling estate, Anola sat before her vanity, methodically removing her makeup. The ritual had remained unchanged for forty years, yet tonight her hands trembled slightly as she worked. The day's events had shaken her more than she cared to admit.
Her phone chimed softly. A message from an unknown number appeared on the screen: "The journal is the key. Look to your past."
Anola froze, cold dread pooling in her stomach. Her eyes darted to the headboard where her most carefully guarded secrets lay hidden. No one knew about that journal. No one. She deleted the message with trembling fingers, then rose to check that her door was securely locked.
Meanwhile, in the servants' quarters, a different drama unfolded. The two fired security guards, Brock and Tyson, had been allowed to remain on the property temporarily while they gathered their belongings.
"This doesn't make any sense," Brock hissed, throwing clothes into a duffel bag. "We were just following orders. Aaron himself told us to rough up that old man!"
Tyson nodded grimly. "And now we're the sacrificial lambs. Five years of service, and this is how they repay loyalty."
"That new guy, Reed, something's off about him." Brock paused his packing, a contemplative frown creasing his forehead. "The way he looked at us today... like he already knew exactly who we were."
"You think he set us up?"
"I think someone did." Brock zipped his bag with unnecessary force. "And I think the Finnegans are going to regret throwing us away like trash."
…
Outside in the garden, unseen by the mansion's occupants, a slender figure moved silently between the shadows. Sarah approached the service entrance, her heart hammering against her ribs. She'd received Atlas's message an hour ago, simple instructions to meet him here at precisely midnight.
The door opened before she could knock. Atlas stood before her in his James Reed disguise, checking both directions before ushering her inside.
"Thank you for coming," he said, guiding her through the darkened service corridors.
Sarah's eyes widened as she took in the opulence of the mansion, even in its backways. "This place is incredible."
"Built on blood money and stolen dreams," Atlas replied quietly. "Remember that."
He led her to a small, windowless room lined with monitors showing security feeds from throughout the estate.
"I need you to listen carefully," Atlas said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Tomorrow, things begin to accelerate. I've planted the seeds of doubt within the family. Now they need to start turning against each other."
Sarah nodded, though uncertainty flickered across her face. "My grandfather is worried. He says you're playing with fire."
"Fire is exactly what's needed to burn away this corruption." Atlas handed her a small USB drive. "This contains everything, the journal entries proving they murdered Marius Finnegan, evidence of their land-grabbing schemes, recordings of their conspiracies. If anything happens to me, release it all to the authorities and the media."
Sarah pocketed the drive, her expression solemn. "You still haven't told me how you healed my grandfather. Or how you survived what they did to you."
Atlas turned away, his attention seemingly fixed on the security monitors. "Some questions are better left unanswered."
"Are you even human?" she pressed.
A sad smile touched Atlas's lips. "I was, once. Then they broke me into pieces, and something else put me back together."
Before Sarah could respond, one of the monitors showed movement. Anola Finnegan was now walking purposefully down a corridor, despite the late hour.
"She's heading to her private study," Atlas murmured. "She must have checked the journal."
Sarah followed his gaze to the screen. "What will you do now?"
"Continue as planned." Atlas turned to her, his expression hardening. "The bait has been taken. The trap is set. Now we wait for them to destroy themselves."
…
In the darkness of her own room, Hannah lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Her phone screen illuminated her face with an eerie blue glow as she typed a message to James Reed: "Need to see you. My room. Now."
She hesitated before pressing send, her thumb hovering over the button.
Something about his heroics today had stirred memories she'd tried to bury, echoes of another man who had once looked at her with similar intensity. A man she and Aaron had destroyed together.
"Don't be ridiculous," she whispered to herself, setting the phone aside without sending the message. "Atlas is gone. He's never coming back."
Oh how wrong she was…
- Writer
