The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 254

Vivian

The convoy of five SUVs raced through the darkness toward the Hudson Valley, sixty of Dmitri's best operatives armed and ready for whatever we'd find at Willowbrook Estate. I'd left ten men behind to reinforce Aveline's security—if this was a coordinated attack, she'd need protection too.

My hands were trembling as I gripped the Sig Sauer in my lap, checking the magazine for the fourth time in ten minutes. The weapon felt heavier tonight, weighted with the knowledge of what I might have to do with it.

"They'll hold out until we arrive," Dmitri said quietly, noting my agitation. "Mitchell knows that property better than anyone. If there's a way to keep them safe, he'll find it."

"You really think so?" My voice came out smaller than I intended. "The Pakhan discovers their location and just... gives them time to escape? We're two hours away, Dmitri. Two hours."

I stared out at the dark countryside flashing past, my imagination conjuring horrible scenarios. "By the time we get there, we'll find an empty house. Or worse—we'll find them, but not alive."

The thought of Ryan's lifeless body made bile rise in my throat. And Grandmother... sweet, gentle Grandmother who'd never hurt anyone in her entire life...

"Fuck this bastard Pakhan," I whispered, my voice breaking. "If he's touched one hair on her head, I'll—"

"I know," Dmitri interrupted softly. "Believe me, I know."

His own expression had grown darker, more troubled. "I should have anticipated this. A coordinated strike while we were still recovering from the museum attack—it's tactically sound. I underestimated how quickly he could redeploy his resources."

"But how did he even find them?" I demanded. "Viktor's family was supposed to provide secure transport. How could their location have been compromised?"

Dmitri was quiet for a long moment, his jaw working silently. "Given Viktor's family's... historical debt to the Pakhan, we can't rule out the possibility that they provided intelligence."

My heart sank further. "You think Viktor sold us out?"

"I think Viktor's father owes his life to Nikolai, and that kind of debt doesn't disappear because you form new friendships." His voice carried bitter understanding. "If the Pakhan demanded information about Ryan's location, Alexei might not have felt he had a choice."

The betrayal cut deeper than I'd expected. Viktor had seemed genuinely conflicted about withdrawing support, but if he'd actually helped target an innocent child...

"The road," I said suddenly, noticing we'd taken the longer route around the mountains instead of the direct path. "We're going the wrong way! The mountain pass is the only quick route—we're adding an hour to our travel time!"

"Vivian—"

"No!" I was almost shouting now. "Every minute could matter! Why are we taking the scenic route while they could be dying?"

Dmitri's voice remained infuriatingly calm. "Because if the Pakhan knows about Willowbrook Estate, he also knows we'll come running to help. That mountain pass is a perfect ambush point—narrow roads, no escape routes, high ground for snipers."

The tactical logic made sense, but logic felt like a luxury we couldn't afford. "But what if we're already too late? What if those extra sixty minutes—"

"Then we'll deal with whatever we find when we get there," he said firmly. "But charging into an obvious trap won't help anyone."

I forced myself to take a deep breath, recognizing the wisdom in his caution even as every instinct screamed at me to take the faster route. "You're right. I know you're right. It's just..."

"I understand. We'll get there, Vivian. And we'll handle whatever's waiting for us."

When we finally reached the estate, the silence was more terrifying than any amount of gunfire would have been. Willowbrook sprawled before us like a sleeping giant, its elegant Georgian architecture rendered ominous by the complete absence of light or movement.

No guards. No vehicles. No signs of life whatsoever.

"This is wrong," I whispered, stepping out of the SUV. "There should be dogs barking, lights in the windows, something..."

The very air seemed to hold its breath, as if the entire property was waiting for something terrible to be discovered.

Dmitri gestured silently to his team, and they dispersed like shadows, moving with practiced stealth toward different sections of the house. I followed him toward the main entrance, my weapon drawn and ready.

The front door stood slightly ajar, revealing only darkness beyond.

Inside, the horror began immediately. Bodies lay scattered throughout the ground floor—servants and staff members who'd been systematically executed. Each victim had been shot multiple times, their blood creating abstract patterns across the antique rugs and polished hardwood.

I forced myself to examine each corpse, dreading what I might find. Male staff members, female housekeepers, even the young kitchen assistant who couldn't have been older than twenty—all dead. But no sign of Grandmother or Ryan among the carnage.

Following a trail of blood droplets and bullet holes, I climbed toward the upper floors. The destruction grew worse with each level—furniture overturned, artwork destroyed, the systematic violence of professionals who enjoyed their work.

On the fourth floor, more bodies awaited. Security personnel who'd made their last stand here, their weapons still clutched in death grips. But still no trace of the people I'd come to save.

I was beginning to allow myself a fragment of hope when I heard Dmitri call out.

"Vivian! Over here!"

In the doorway of what looked like a guest bedroom, a pair of legs protruded into the hallway. The body was moving slightly—barely perceptible tremors that suggested life.

We rushed forward to find Mitchell, Orion's head butler, barely clinging to consciousness. His condition was horrific—gunshot wounds to the chest and leg, but worse were the deliberate cuts covering his face and hands. Someone had tortured him systematically, methodically.

"Oh God, Mitchell," I breathed, kneeling beside him. The kindly man who'd served Orion's family for decades, who'd always had a gentle word and a warm smile, had been brutalized beyond recognition.

When he saw me, he managed a weak smile and raised one trembling hand toward the bedroom's shattered window. The glass lay in jagged fragments across the floor, and the opening revealed the four-story drop to the courtyard below.

"They... they jumped?" I asked, my heart breaking at the thought. "Mitchell, the fall from here..."

"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Window... broken... trick. Behind... behind window frame... hidden switch... controls the... the bookshelf mechanism..."

Understanding flooded through me. The broken window was misdirection—a deliberate deception to make attackers think their targets had escaped by jumping. While the real hiding place was...

Dmitri was already examining the window frame, his fingers probing for concealed mechanisms. After a moment, I heard a soft click, followed by the sound of heavy machinery engaging somewhere in the walls.

Across the room, an antique bookshelf began to swing inward, revealing a hidden chamber behind it.

Mitchell's face transformed with relief and satisfaction. "Still... still there," he whispered. "They're... safe."

His hand found mine, gripping with surprising strength. "Tell Orion... tell him I kept... my promise. Kept them... safe."

"Mitchell, don't talk like that. We're getting you to a hospital—"

"No." His voice carried quiet finality. "Too late for... for that. But not... not too late for them."

As the secret compartment fully opened, I could see movement in the shadows beyond. Then Grandmother emerged, supporting a terrified Ryan, both of them alive and unharmed.

The sight of them—safe, breathing, scared but whole—should have filled me with joy. Instead, I watched Mitchell's eyes close for the final time, his hand going limp in mine.

"Mitchell!" Ryan cried out, breaking away from Grandmother to rush toward the man who'd saved his life. "Mitchell, wake up! We're safe now!"

But Mitchell would never wake up again. He'd died knowing he'd succeeded, knowing his sacrifice had meaning.

Grandmother sank into a nearby chair, overwhelmed by emotion and exhaustion. Ryan knelt beside Mitchell's body, his small hands touching the butler's face as tears streamed down his cheeks.

The room filled with the sound of grief—raw, honest sorrow for a good man who'd given everything to protect two innocent lives.

I found myself staring at Mitchell's mutilated face, at the precise cuts that spoke of professional interrogation techniques. They'd tortured him for information he refused to give. They'd tried to break him, and he'd died before betraying the people in his care.

As my tears fell, something else grew within me—something cold and implacable. This gentle man had died because of the Pakhan's war against us. An innocent servant had been brutalized and killed to further someone else's vendetta.

Dmitri stood silently nearby, understanding that this moment belonged to grief. But when I finally looked up at him, he must have seen something new in my expression.

"They're going to pay for this," I said quietly, my voice steady as steel. "Every single person responsible for Mitchell's death—they're going to suffer before they die."

I looked down at the weapon in my hands, no longer feeling its weight. The gun had become an extension of my will, a tool for the justice that Mitchell would never see.