Chapter 20 #2
She smiled, cold and calculating. “I’ve spent the past month systematically cutting the support cables.
Removing counterweights. Weakening the iron framework.
The entire roof is now suspended by a single main cable—and that cable is attached to a release mechanism connected to the pressure plate you’re standing on.
Step off, and the release triggers. Without the counterweights and support cables, several tons of glass and iron come down instantly. ”
My pregnant belly suddenly felt enormous, vulnerable. My hands went protectively to the bump. “Adelaide, please. I’m carrying a child—”
“I’m aware. Which is precisely why this is such an effective trap. You won’t risk sudden movement, won’t risk the baby. You’ll stay perfectly still until the timer I’ve set runs out. Fifteen minutes, give or take.”
“They’ll know it was you,” I said desperately. “Sheriff Hawkins already suspects—”
“Sheriff Hawkins suspects my father. Everyone suspects my father. That was always my plan—let the investigation conclude that Henry Fairfax killed Thomas Wong to protect his business interests, then died before facing justice.”
“Richard gave the sheriff the letter two days ago,” I said quickly. “They’ve done forensic analysis, they know it was forged—”
Adelaide’s expression flickered—surprise and anger. “Richard gave them the letter?”
“Yes. It’s evidence now. They’re analyzing everything, investigating everyone who had access to Thomas’ writing samples.” I tried to appeal to logic. “If you do this, if you kill me, it won’t solve anything. It’ll just make you the prime suspect—”
“Then your death buys me time. Cambodia has no extradition treaty with the US. I have accounts prepared, a new identity ready. By the time they find your body and connect it to me, I’ll be enjoying retirement in Siem Reap.”
But beneath the cold pragmatism, I saw something crack—genuine desperation, the terror of someone who’d spent half a century maintaining a lie.
“Let it end, Adelaide,” I said softly, seeing the opening. “Turn yourself in. Tell the truth. Let Thomas’ family and Richard have real closure. Aren’t you tired?”
For one moment, Adelaide’s carefully constructed facade crumbled. I saw genuine anguish flash across her face—guilt, exhaustion, the soul-crushing weight of half a century of lies.
Then it hardened again, calcified back into cold determination.
“I’d rather carry it forever than face prison.” She moved toward the exit, but stopped suddenly. Her eyes narrowed.
“Your phone. Give it to me. Now.”
When I hesitated, she reached into her clutch bag and withdrew a small gun—elegant, silver, the kind of compact ladies’ pistol that could be concealed easily. She pointed it at me with a steady hand.
“The phone, Leo. Or I shoot you right now.”
My hand trembled as I pulled out my phone and held it toward her, extending my arm as far as I could without shifting my weight. Adelaide moved closer and snatched it from my grasp. She checked the screen, saw no calls or messages had been sent, and pocketed it with satisfaction.
“Smart boy.” She backed toward the door again. The gun remained pointed at me. “The trigger is set to release when you step off the tile. Don’t move. Don’t call out. If I hear anything before I’m safely away from this wing, I come back and shoot you. Understood?”
I nodded mutely.
Adelaide studied me for a long moment, and something almost regretful crossed her face. “I’m sorry, Leo. Truly. You seem like a good person. But I’ve spent fifty years protecting my secret. I won’t let it destroy me now.”
“Adelaide, wait—”
But she was already at the door, pulling it open. The corridor light spilled in, silhouetting her elegant figure.
“Don’t shift your weight too much either,” she said without looking back.
The door closed. I heard the lock engage from outside—a soft, final click that seemed to echo in the glass space.
And then I was alone in the greenhouse, standing on a pressure plate connected by a single wire to tons of glass and iron suspended above me—minutes away from death, without my phone to call for help.
I felt Dominic’s panic slice through our bond, sharp and visceral, as if a blade were being twisted between my ribs.
My hand found my belly, protective instinct overwhelming terror. “I’m sorry, baby,” I whispered to my unborn child. “I’m so sorry. But Daddy’s coming. He’ll come for us.”
Time moved with excruciating slowness. I couldn’t move, couldn’t call out, couldn’t do anything but stand perfectly still on the pressure plate and try to control my breathing. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to escape, but I couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk even the smallest movement.
Through our bond, I could feel Dominic’s desperate urgency. I tried to push calm through the bond, tried to let him know I was still alive, but fear kept overwhelming any other emotion.
How long have I been standing here? Five minutes? Ten?
The glass roof groaned softly overhead—ancient iron expanding and contracting in the cold night air, or perhaps Adelaide’s sabotage beginning to give way under the strain. I couldn’t tell. Every sound made my heart race frantically in my chest.
“Hold on,” I whispered. “Just hold on a little longer.”
The greenhouse door rattled suddenly—someone trying the handle from outside. My heart leaped with desperate hope and terror in equal measure.
“Leo!” Dominic’s voice, muffled through the door but unmistakable. Frantic. Terrified. “Leo, are you in there?”
“Don’t come in!” I shouted, voice cracking. “It’s trapped! I’m standing on a trigger!”
Silence for one agonizing heartbeat. Then Dominic’s voice again, closer to the door: “What kind of trigger?”
“Pressure plate! Connected to the roof! If I move, it collapses! Adelaide—she rigged it—she took my phone—”
“Blake!” Dominic’s shout was muffled but audible. “Get Richard! Now! And Sheriff Hawkins!”
I could hear movement outside, people running. Through the glass walls, I caught glimpses of Dominic’s face pressed against the frosted panels, trying to see inside.
“Keep talking to me,” Dominic ordered, his voice deliberately calm despite the panic I felt blazing through our bond. “Are you hurt?”
“No. But I can’t move. She said if I move, the roof will come down—”
“We’re getting you out.” The certainty in his voice was absolute. “Stay exactly where you are.”
More footsteps. Richard’s voice, breathless: “What’s going on?”
“Adelaide trapped Leo inside,” Dominic said, his words clipped and controlled. “Pressure plate. Connected to the roof structure. Can you disable it?”
“I need to see—” Richard’s face appeared at the glass, eyes scanning the interior.
“Can you disable it?” Dominic repeated, each word sharp with barely restrained desperation.
“There’s a basement control panel for the old security system,” Richard said. “If I can access it—”
“Then go!” Blake’s voice. “I’ll come with you.”
“If Adelaide modified it, there might be failsafes.” Richard’s voice was urgent. “Traps within traps—”
Sheriff Hawkins arrived, slightly out of breath. “What’s the situation?”
“Adelaide confessed to murdering Thomas Wong,” I called out, my voice shaking. “She told me everything. Then she trapped me here. She has my phone—GPS should tell you where she is—”
“And she has a gun,” I added.
“All units,” Hawkins said, apparently speaking into his radio. “Locate cell phone registered to Leo Sterling-Hart. Suspect Adelaide Fairfax is armed and dangerous. Apprehend on sight.”
“Richard, we need that control panel now,” Dominic said, his voice tight.
Penny’s voice, panicked and wobbling as if near tears. “He’s down there working on it.”
Through the glass, I could see Dominic trying the door handle—locked. He stepped back, clearly calculating whether to break it down.
“Don’t,” I said quickly. “Adelaide said one wire is holding the roof. Any movement could trigger it—”
Dominic’s hands pressed flat against the door, his whole body vibrating with the need to get to me. “The second that system is disabled, I’m coming in.”
The glass roof groaned again, louder this time. A support cable somewhere made a sound like a guitar string snapping—high and musical and terrifying.
“Dominic—” My voice cracked with fear.
“I’m here,” he said immediately. “I’m right here, baby. Richard and Blake’s working on it.”
“If something happens to me—” I had to say it, had to make sure I told him my feelings. “You need to know I wouldn’t change anything—”
“Stop,” Dominic said fiercely. “You’re going to be fine.”
A tremendous crash from the basement, audible even from here. Then Richard’s voice, distant and alarmed: “The control panel—it’s been sabotaged! Explosive charges wired to the access points! If I touch it—”
“Then don’t touch it!” Blake’s voice, equally distant. “We’ll find another way—”
Another cable snapped overhead. The entire glass roof shuddered, iron framework groaning under impossible strain.
Through the frosted glass panels beside the door, I saw Dominic’s face—anguished, desperate, making a decision.
“Dominic, no—”
But he was already moving. He grabbed something heavy from the corridor—I heard the crash of breaking porcelain, probably one of the decorative vases—and smashed through the glass panel beside the door. I watched as he reached through for the lock.
The door swung open. Dominic burst inside, already shrugging off his coat as he crossed the space between us in three long strides.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, voice rough.
He wrapped his heavy wool coat around my head and shoulders, cocooning me as much as possible. Through the fabric, I felt his hands frame my face, felt him lean in close.
“I love you,” he said fiercely, his voice muffled but clear through the jacket. “I love you so fucking much.”
Then, with one smooth motion, he grabbed me around the waist and yanked me off the pressure plate.