Chapter 9
The heavy thudding of fists against the locked library doors echoed like a rapid heartbeat in the confined space. The lighting in the library was dim, filtered through heavy, dark velvet curtains that blocked out the bright, cinematic sunlight outside. The air smelled of old paper and leather bindings.
"Open the door, Jessamine!" Arthur’s muffled voice shouted from the hallway. "You can't stay in there forever! The security guards are on their way up from the gatehouse!"
Jessamine backed away from the doors, her breathing ragged and desperate. She set Piers down gently on the expensive Persian rug. The four-year-old boy was shaking violently, his fair, rosy skin pale with absolute terror.
"Stay right here, Piers. Hide under the big desk," Jessamine instructed softly, dropping to her knees and gently guiding him beneath the massive mahogany desk in the center of the room. "Don't make a sound, no matter what happens. Mommy is going to find us a way out."
"Okay, Mommy," Piers whispered, curling into a tiny, adorable ball beneath the heavy wood, his bright eyes watching her every move.
Jessamine stood up, her beautiful, movie-star face set in a mask of pure, unadulterated resolve. The polite, grieving widow was gone, replaced entirely by a fierce, calculating survivor. She shoved the crumpled, damning envelope deep into the pocket of her jeans.
She scanned the massive library. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves. There were no secondary doors leading to the hallway. The only other exit was a set of tall, narrow French windows at the far end of the room that overlooked the side gardens and the winding driveway leading down to the security gates.
The pounding on the main doors intensified. The wood groaned under the pressure as the male cousins joined Arthur in attempting to break the deadbolt.
"She has the documents!" Marcelline’s shrill voice echoed through the wood. "Break it down! Do not let her leave this house with those papers!"
Jessamine sprinted toward the French windows. She grabbed the heavy brass handles and shoved. They were locked. She fumbled with the latch, twisting it frantically, but the old mechanism was stuck, rusted shut from years of disuse.
"Damn it!" Jessamine hissed, her American accent cracking with panic.
She looked around the room for something heavy. Her eyes landed on a heavy, solid bronze bookend shaped like a globe, resting on a nearby side table. She grabbed the heavy bronze object, testing its weight in her hands.
Behind her, the brass deadbolt on the library doors gave way with a loud, sickening crack. The heavy wooden doors burst open, slamming violently against the bookshelves.
Arthur, Marcelline, and two of the cousins poured into the dim room, their fair faces flushed with adrenaline and rage.
"It's over, Jessamine," Marcelline declared, stepping out from behind her husband, her elegant fitted dress ruined but her aristocratic arrogance fully restored. She held out her hand. "Give me the envelope, and I will ensure the boy is raised comfortably in a boarding school far away from here."
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Jessamine didn't answer. She gripped the heavy bronze bookend tightly in both hands. She didn't throw it at the advancing relatives.
Instead, she spun around and swung the heavy bronze globe with every ounce of her remaining strength, smashing it violently directly into the center of the tall French windows.
