Their Favoritism Resulted In A Cruel Outcome Chapter 03
At dawn, Connor went alone to my room in the north wing.
The wedding lights were still strung across the yard.
The seating chart on the window slapped against the glass in the sea wind.
He pushed open the door and saw an unfinished photo album on the table.
Tucked into the last page was a note from me:
*Save one page for every year after this.*
Connor picked up the album and didn’t put it down.
A bodyguard reminded him from the doorway, “The car’s ready, sir.”
“Are you going to get the cancellation papers now?”
Connor gave a distracted nod.
Before leaving, he took a thick cashmere coat from the closet.
“That building gets cold at night,” he said.
“She’s been frightened all night. I don’t want her to be cold when she comes out.”
The Worthington men had also prepared their cars.
There was coffee, hot soup, and clean clothes packed in insulated boxes.
My father brought the lumbar cushion my grandmother always used, worried that a night on a hard bed would make her back ache.
James brought Lauren’s favorite blueberry scones.
Henry slipped a bag of cinnamon candy into his pocket.
On the way there, my father said, “The moment we go in, everyone apologizes first.”
“If your grandmother comes after us with her cane, no one is allowed to dodge.”
All three brothers nodded.
Connor sat in another car, still holding the album.
The cars stopped in front of the long-shuttered detention center.
The head of security took one look at them all arriving together, and his face went pale.
“Mr. Winthrop?”
My father frowned.
“Where are they?”
“Open the door. We’re here to take our family home.”
The man didn’t move.
“Take them home?”
“The orders delivered last night said they were involved in a violent plot against the governor.
No heat, no meals, no outside contact.”
James stepped forward.
“That’s impossible.”
“What about the money I sent with the butler?”
The security chief’s knees seemed to give out.
“I never saw any money.”
The color drained from Connor’s face.
He seized the man by the coat.
“Who went inside last night?”
The man’s lips trembled.
“Three men… former private security.”
“They had Blair Worthington’s access card. They said they were there to question Ms. Worthington.”
Connor released him and ran inside.
The Worthington men followed.
The building reeked of burned plastic and fuel oil.
The closer they got to the cells, the heavier the smoke became.
At the end of the corridor, two guards were kneeling beside a firefighter.
At their feet lay a sheet of paper, blackened by smoke.
Hannah had written it before she lost consciousness. In a child’s blue crayon, she had managed only a few lines.
“They said Thomas, James, Luke, and Henry would get the death penalty.”
“They said we would be sent to a prison where no one could find us.”
“The door was locked. The fire alarm never went off.”
“If anyone sees this, please tell Molly we tried to take her home.”