POOR TWINS DISCOVER A MILLIONAIRE LOCKED IN HIS BASEMENT — THEIR ACTION SHOCKS EVERYONE

The trapdoor was stiff, locked by decades of rust and grime. Emma and Lily wedged the iron fireplace poker under the hinges, putting their combined body weight into it until the metal screeched in protest and gave way.

Below lay a dark, vertical shaft made of polished pine, wide enough for a human to slide down. It was an old linen chute, designed to drop heavy bedsheets straight down to the basement laundry facility adjacent to the rear carriage house.

“It goes straight to the bottom,” Lily whispered, shining her flashlight down the drop. “If we drop him, he’ll break every bone in his body.”

“We’re not dropping him,” Emma replied. She pointed to a thick, dust-covered hemp rope tied around a structural timber near the chute—a remnant of the mansion's construction or maintenance. “We harness him.”

Julian opened his eyes, struggling to stay conscious. “You... you two are insane. You’re high schoolers...”

“High schoolers who are currently saving your life, billionaire,” Emma snapped gently, looping the heavy rope under Julian’s arms and securing it with a double bowline knot—a trick she had learned in Girl Scouts years ago. “Lily, hold the anchor on that beam. I’ll lower him down carefully. Julian, keep your arms tucked in.”

With trembling muscles, the twins managed to maneuver Julian into the chute. The rope strained against the wooden timber, groaning under the weight. Bit by bit, inch by inch, Emma fed the rope through her blistered hands while Lily guided the load.

A soft thump echoed from deep below.

“He’s down!” Lily whispered.

Without wasting a second, Lily threw her legs into the chute and slid down, friction burning through her jeans until she hit a pile of old canvas sacks at the bottom. Emma followed moments later, tumbling into the cool darkness of the basement laundry room.

They were in the carriage house annex—far away from the main entrance where Arthur Vance’s men might be watching.

Julian was lying on the canvas sacks, breathing heavily but alive. Lily quickly untied the rope while Emma scouted the perimeter. Outside the carriage house window, rain had finally begun to fall, washing away the dust of Millfield and blurring the glass.

“There’s a ditch behind the property line,” Emma reported, returning to the basement. “It leads directly to the old gravel road where we parked our bicycles. But we can't transport Julian on a bike.”

“My camera,” Lily suddenly realized, clutching the device against her stomach. “I took photos of the Bentley when we arrived. I took photos of the broken latch, and I took photos of Julian’s face in that closet.”

Julian reached out, his weak fingers catching Lily’s sleeve. “If you... if you go to the local police, my father will buy them off. Or he’ll have me moved before they get a warrant. He controls the town’s land development board. He controls everything here.”

Lily and Emma looked at each other. The gravity of what they were involved in settled over them like a cold blanket. This wasn't just a historic architecture project anymore. This was a war against a man who possessed unlimited wealth and zero conscience.

“Then we don't go to the local police,” Emma decided, her eyes gleaming with fierce determination. “We take you somewhere he’d never think to look.”