Part 2 Title The Night the Devil Came Home
“Lily?” Cassandra sang through the door. “Sweetheart, open up. I brought you hot chocolate.”
Lily remembered her father's warning.
Do not drink anything.
Do not answer.
She pressed herself farther into the closet and held the phone tighter.
“I’m still here, Daddy,” she whispered.
“Good girl.”
Marcus was already moving.
In London, federal agents shouted as he stormed from the penthouse suite. Phones rang. Security teams scrambled. A private jet waited at a nearby airfield.
“Mercer, you can’t leave!” one agent yelled.
Marcus never slowed.
“My daughter is in danger.”
“You’re under protective supervision.”
“Then supervise me from the air.”
The jet took off eleven minutes later.
For fourteen hours, Marcus Mercer never slept.
Meanwhile, back in Beverly Hills, Cassandra’s patience was fading.
She stood outside the bedroom door in a silk robe, her smile gone.
Beside her stood Leonard Wells, the financial adviser who had spent the last two years stealing millions from Mercer Holdings.
“Did she hear everything?” Cassandra asked.
“She heard enough.”
“And the buyers?”
“They’re waiting.”
Cassandra glanced at her watch.
“Move tonight.”
Inside the closet, Lily listened.
Her heart pounded so loudly she thought they might hear it.
Then the house lights suddenly flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then darkness.
“What's happening?” Cassandra snapped outside.
A security guard shouted from downstairs.
“Power outage!”
But it wasn't an outage.
It was the first sign that Marcus Mercer had returned to Los Angeles.
Three black SUVs rolled through the storm outside the estate gates.
The guards never saw them coming.
Marcus's old security chief, Victor Reyes, led the team.
Former Marines.
Former detectives.
Men who owed Marcus their lives.
Within ninety seconds, every camera on the property had been disabled.
Within two minutes, every guard loyal to Cassandra had been disarmed.
Within three minutes, Marcus stepped out of the lead vehicle.
Rain poured down his face.
His eyes were cold enough to freeze blood.
“Where is my daughter?” he asked.
Nobody answered.
That was a mistake.
Upstairs, Cassandra finally realized something was wrong.
The sound of shouting echoed from below.
Then came footsteps.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
Approaching the staircase.
Leonard Wells turned pale.
“No,” he whispered.
The front doors exploded open.
Marcus Mercer walked inside.
For years Los Angeles had feared his reputation.
Tonight they finally remembered why.
“Find Lily,” he ordered.
“Alive.”
Then he looked directly at Cassandra.
“And pray she hasn't been harmed.”
For the first time since she met him, Cassandra looked afraid.
Very afraid.