Chapter 10 - Briar House
Briar House sat beyond iron gates on a wooded road in Westchester, its windows glowing through the trees like watchful eyes.
It had once been a country estate. Now it called itself a private wellness retreat. Rich people came there to recover from exhaustion, addiction, scandals, cosmetic procedures, and inconvenient nervous breakdowns. The kind of place where doctors used gentle words for imprisonment.
Camila had been held there after giving birth.
Now Noah was inside.
Our plan was terrible.
There had not been time for a good one.
Detective Vale and Mateo would approach quietly with two trusted officers, staying beyond the gates until Malcolm secured emergency authorization. Lena’s nephew monitored the road. Nora knew the staff entrance and the old delivery schedule. Jenna stayed behind with Mrs. Alvarez because nobody trusted her and because she did not trust herself.
Camila, the triplets, and I drove toward the gate in a black car borrowed from one of Lena’s cousins.
The girls lay hidden beneath blankets in the back, which they had protested until Camila said, “I need you to be brave in a boring way.”
Valerie whispered, “That is the worst kind.”
Even then, I almost smiled.
Camila sat beside me, holding the white bracelet box on her lap.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said.
“Yes,” she replied. “I do.”
“You survived him once.”
“No. I endured him. That’s different.”
The gatehouse appeared ahead.
A guard stepped out.
Camila lowered the window.
His posture changed instantly when he saw her.
“Ms. Montgomery.”
“My father is expecting me.”
The guard looked at me.
“He’s with me,” Camila said coldly.
The old Camila might have trembled.
This one sounded like she owned every inch of road beneath us.
The guard opened the gate.
As we drove through, Lucy whispered from beneath the blanket, “I can’t breathe.”
“Yes, you can,” Regina whispered back. “You’re complaining.”
The driveway curved through dark trees and opened before the house.
Briar House was beautiful in the way traps can be beautiful.
White columns. Ivy. Soft light. No visible bars.
Victor stood beneath the portico with Elise Harrow at his side.
Elise was elegant, blonde, and expressionless. The kind of lawyer who made cruelty look like a scheduling conflict.
No Silas.
That worried me.
Victor smiled when Camila stepped out.
“My dear,” he said. “You have caused quite a scene.”
“Where is Noah?”
“So direct.”
“Where is my son?”
For the first time, Victor’s smile twitched.
He glanced at me. “Which one?”
I took a step forward.
Camila caught my wrist.
Victor enjoyed that.
“The boy is safe,” he said. “Children are always safe when adults behave rationally.”
Elise opened a folder. “Ms. Montgomery, you will sign a statement acknowledging emotional distress, temporary confusion, and unlawful removal of your daughters from their residence. Mr. Ward will sign a non-disclosure agreement, renounce any claim regarding the minors, and accept a financial settlement.”
I laughed.
Elise looked annoyed.
“What part was funny?” she asked.
“The part where you thought I came for money.”
Victor’s eyes hardened. “Everyone comes for money eventually.”
“No,” I said. “Some people come for their children.”
Camila lifted the bracelet box.
“I know about Jonah.”
Elise’s face changed.
Tiny.
But enough.
Victor did not move.
“An old delusion,” he said.
Camila opened the box and held up the blue bracelet.
“Baby D was transferred. Not deceased. Not imagined. Transferred.”
Elise recovered quickly. “Possession of stolen private medical property will not help you.”
“It will when the police see it.”
Victor stepped closer.
“My daughter, you are tired. You have always been susceptible to fantasy under stress.”
Camila’s voice shook, but she did not lower it.
“You drugged me.”
“I medicated you.”
“You took my son.”
“I corrected a mistake.”
The air changed.
Even Elise looked at him.
Victor realized he had said too much.
I saw it.
So did Camila.
So did the tiny microphone taped beneath her collar, transmitting to Mateo outside the gates.
Victor’s face went blank.
Then a gunshot sounded from the trees.
The front porch lights shattered.
The girls screamed beneath the blankets.
I grabbed Camila and shoved her behind the car.
Victor ducked, but not like a frightened man.
Like a man whose contingency plan had arrived.
Silas Boone stepped from the side of the house, one arm in a sling, a gun in his good hand.
“Inside,” he ordered.
Elise shouted, “This was not agreed.”
Silas ignored her.
Two men rushed toward our car.
The back door kicked open.
Regina launched herself out first, swinging a flashlight directly into one man’s knee. Lucy followed with a scream that sounded like rage. Valerie crawled out last, clutching the rabbit and sobbing.
I hit the first man before he could grab Lucy.
Pain exploded through my ribs from the injury Silas had given me, but I stayed upright. Camila pulled the girls behind her and ran toward the east side of the house.
Not away.
Toward Noah.
She knew the building.
I followed.
Behind us, Victor shouted, “Stop her!”
We crashed through a side door into a laundry room. Camila locked it behind us.
The girls were panting.
“Where?” I asked.
“Blue room,” Regina said.
Camila looked at her.
“The horse picture,” Regina said. “Mommy told us. Second floor, west hall.”
We ran.
Briar House smelled of antiseptic and old flowers. A nurse stepped into the hallway and froze when she saw Camila.
“Ms. Montgomery?”
“Where is the boy?”
“I don’t—”
Camila grabbed her by the shoulders.
“My son. Where is he?”
The nurse’s face crumpled.
“Blue room.”
We reached the stairs as alarms began blaring outside.
Mateo’s voice crackled faintly in my ear. “We heard Victor. Judge approved emergency entry. Hold on.”
Hold on.
As if holding on was not the only thing I had done my entire life.
On the second floor, the west hall was lined with paintings.
Horses.
Dozens of them.
Valerie whimpered.
Lucy grabbed her hand.
Regina pointed. “Blue door.”
I kicked it open.
Noah sat on the couch clutching his paper boat.
His eyes widened.
“Dad!”
I crossed the room in three steps and lifted him into my arms.
For a moment, nothing else existed.
His arms locked around my neck. He smelled like fear and soap and the peanut butter crackers Mrs. Alvarez packed in every bag.
“I knew you’d come,” he whispered.
I held him tighter.
“I will always come.”
Then he looked over my shoulder.
“Who are they?”
The triplets stood in the doorway, soaked, frightened, staring at him like he had walked out of a storybook.
Camila stepped forward slowly.
Noah looked at her.
Something passed across his face.
Recognition without memory.
Camila knelt, tears streaming silently.
“Hi, Noah,” she whispered. “I’m Camila.”
He studied her.
Then he looked at me.
“Is she one of the lost kids?”
My throat closed.
Camila smiled through the pain.
“No,” she said. “I think I’m one of the lost parents.”
Before anyone could speak, the door slammed shut behind us.
A lock clicked.
Gas began hissing from a vent near the ceiling.
Lucy screamed.
Silas’s voice came through a speaker in the wall.
“Mr. Ward, Ms. Montgomery, I tried to keep this clean. Victor always preferred documents. I prefer endings.”
Camila grabbed the doorknob.
Locked.
I looked at the vent.
White vapor curled into the room.
May you like
Noah coughed.
And outside the door, someone began dragging furniture across the hall to block us in.
