THE TRILLIONAIRE'S WRATH: RISE OF THE FALLEN SON-IN-LAW

CHAPTER 013: Vents and Veins

The mansion was quiet, but it was the kind of quiet that made your skin crawl. Thiago sat in the dark of his guest room. He wasn't sleeping. He had a small black case open on the bed. Inside were tiny silver discs, no bigger than a shirt button. These were high-tech bugs, the kind used by spies.

"You're sure about this?" Melanie’s voice came through his earpiece. She was parked a mile away, monitoring the signal.

"Henry and Bernadette think they can play games with poison," Thiago whispered. "It's time I listen to their secrets."

Thiago moved like a shadow. He knew the layout of the house better than anyone. He climbed into the maintenance crawlspace above the ceiling. The air was dusty and hot. He crawled through the narrow vents, his heart thumping against his ribs.

He reached the vent directly above Henry’s private study. He moved with care, placing a silver disc against the metal grill. Then, he pressed a button on his watch. A soft blue light flickered once. The connection was live.

Below him, he heard the click of a door. Henry walked in. He sounded out of breath.

"Is the girl dealt with?" a sharp voice asked. It was Bernadette.

"No," Henry hissed. "Thiago broke the bowl. He knew. The man is like a devil, Bernadette. He sees things before they happen."

"Stop whining," Bernadette snapped. "If the poison failed, we just have to keep him busy. Did you call the facility?"

Thiago held his breath. He pressed his ear closer to the vent.

"I called," Henry said. There was the sound of ice clinking in a glass. "They said the transfer to 'The Willow Tree' is complete. But we have a problem."

"What problem?"

"The patient," Henry whispered. His voice was shaking now. "The doctors said he should have been brain dead weeks ago. But his vitals are spiking. Every time we mention the name 'Thiago' near his bed, the machines go crazy. The doctor said he’s a patient who simply won't stay dead."

Thiago’s eyes went wide in the dark. The Willow Tree. It sounded like a medical center, or a graveyard. And a patient who reacted to his name? There was only one person it could be.

David. His best friend. The man he thought was buried years ago.

"If he wakes up, we're finished," Bernadette said. Her voice was cold as ice. "He knows where the real Osbourne files are. He knows we framed Thiago. If David Holt opens his eyes and talks to a judge, we won't just be poor. We'll be in the chair."

"I told them to double the dose," Henry said. "But they’re scared. They say his heart is too strong. It’s like he’s waiting for something."

Suddenly, a loud clack echoed through the vent. Thiago’s knee had hit a loose screw.

Below, the study went silent.

"Did you hear that?" Bernadette whispered.

"The vents," Henry said.

Thiago didn't wait. He scrambled backward, his hands scraping against the metal. He had to get out. If they caught him in the ceiling, he was a sitting duck.

He slid through the tunnel, dropping into a broom closet near the kitchen. He burst out, gasping for air, but stopped dead.

A maid was standing there. She was holding a tray of dirty glasses. She looked at him, her eyes vacant, but then her gaze moved to the black case in his hand.

"The Master is looking for the ghost in the walls," she said. Her voice was flat, but there was a strange warning in it. "You should hide, prisoner. The Queen has the long needles tonight."

“ listen to me," Thiago said, grabbing her arm. "The Willow Tree. Do you know where that is?"

The girl flinched. She dropped the tray. Glasses shattered across the floor, the sound like gunshots in the quiet house.

"The trees with the weeping hair," she muttered. "Where the brothers go to sleep. Down by the black water."

Before Thiago could ask more, the heavy footsteps of guards thudded in the hallway.

"In here!" a voice shouted.

Thiago looked at the maid one last time. He saw a single tear roll down her cheek.

He turned and bolted toward the back door, but as he reached it, the door was kicked open from the outside. Three men in black masks stood there, their rifles leveled at his chest.

"Don't move, Henderson," the lead guard said. "Henry wants to show you something. A little gift from The Willow Tree."

The guard stepped aside, and another man walked into the light. He was carrying a small, blood-stained hospital wristband. He tossed it at Thiago’s feet.

Thiago looked down. Written on the plastic band was a name and a date.

NAME: DANIEL HENDERSON. STATUS: TERMINAL.

Thiago’s world tilted. Daniel. His son.

"He’s not dead yet," the guard grinned, showing yellow teeth. "But the doctors are getting tired of waiting. You want to see him? You’ll have to come with us."