Chapter 15 - Race to Harrington House

Daniel ran before anyone could stop him.

I followed.

Federal agents arrested Eleanor inside the ballroom.

But Richard Sloan still had Margaret and Ethan.

The drive to the Harrington mansion felt endless.

Police vehicles surrounded us.

Daniel called his mother repeatedly.

No answer.

When we arrived, the front doors were open.

The library was empty.

Blood marked the carpet.

Not much.

But enough to terrify us.

Noah found a hidden tracker inside Ethan’s watch.

The signal was moving north.

Richard had taken them to the old Harrington estate in Hudson Valley.

Charles had abandoned it twenty years earlier.

We reached the property shortly before dawn.

Fog covered the fields.

The main house stood dark.

Daniel knew a service tunnel beneath the west wing.

He, Detective Monroe, and I entered through it.

I should not have gone.

But I was finished allowing powerful people to decide where I belonged.

We reached the basement.

Ethan was tied to a pipe.

Margaret was gone.

Daniel cut him loose.

“Where is Mom?”

“Upstairs.”

Ethan was bleeding from his shoulder.

“Richard wants the original ledger.”

“He can’t have it.”

“He doesn’t care anymore.”

Ethan looked at me.

“He wants Grace.”

Footsteps sounded above us.

Richard’s voice came through an intercom.

“Exactly.”

We climbed the stairs.

Richard stood inside Charles Harrington’s old office.

Margaret sat beside him.

He looked exhausted.

Not powerful.

Not frightening.

Just desperate.

“Eleanor is finished.”

Daniel said.

Richard laughed.

“You think this was only Eleanor?”

My stomach tightened.

“What do you mean?”

Richard nodded toward the black ledger in my hands.

“That book is thirty years old.”

“The network is older.”

“Eleanor inherited it.”

Detective Monroe raised her weapon.

“Put yours down.”

Richard ignored her.

“There has always been a Chairman.”

“Eleanor was only the latest.”

I stared at him.

“Who came before her?”

He smiled.

“Charles Harrington.”

Daniel stepped forward.

“You’re lying.”

“Ask your mother.”

Everyone looked at Margaret.

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She lowered her eyes.

And suddenly I knew the story was still missing one final truth.