Chapter 4 - The Spider’s Web
The basement levels of the Warren estate were a relic of the Cold War era—a subterranean labyrinth of concrete bunkers, old wine cellars, and reinforced panic rooms designed by Spencer’s paranoid grandfather. Few people knew the full layout of the tunnels.
Spencer, Viktor, and two trusted armed operatives moved silently through the damp concrete corridors, their tactical flashlights cutting through the suffocating gloom. Mabel was resting safely in the secured medical wing upstairs under heavy guard, tended to by a visiting doctor, while Charlee had refused to leave the guest suite unless Spencer promised on his life that he would bring baby Dexter back.
"According to the server logs I pulled from the main terminal before they wiped it," Viktor whispered, keeping his voice low as they navigated a tight junction near the old wine vaults, "the administrative bypass code used to unlock the east gate and the nursery came from a terminal registered to the secondary guest house out back."
"The guest house," Spencer murmured. "Who has been staying there this week?"
Viktor hesitated, swallowing hard. "Dr. Pamela Ortiz. You invited her to stay on the estate after she confessed at the toy store, remember? You wanted to keep her close until we figured out why she gave your genetic samples to Jocelyn Cooper."
Spencer’s jaw tightened. "Pamela was a brilliant geneticist, but she was never a mastermind. She was a pawn. Someone manipulated her into stealing those samples, and someone manipulated her into keeping quiet."
They reached the heavy steel fire door at the end of the subterranean corridor. The door was slightly ajar, a thin sliver of warm, yellow light spilling out onto the wet concrete floor.
Spencer raised his hand, signaling Viktor and the operatives to halt. He drew his Glock, flicking off the safety with a soft, mechanical click.
With a swift, powerful kick, Spencer sent the steel door crashing inward against the wall.
"Federal—drop your weapons!" Viktor roared, rushing into the room with his shotgun raised.
The room inside was not a dark, grimy dungeon. It was a high-tech makeshift laboratory, glowing with multiple computer monitors, centrifuge machines, and medical refrigeration units humming softly in the background.
Standing in the center of the room, staring at a laptop screen with wide, panicked eyes, was Dr. Pamela Ortiz. And slumped in a metal chair beside her, bound hand and foot with heavy plastic zip ties, was Julian Vance—Spencer’s lifelong legal counsel and closest confidant.
"Spencer!" Pamela cried out, dropping her tablet as the screen shattered against the concrete floor. "Thank God! You have to help me—he forced me! He threatened my family!"
Julian Vance didn't look panicked. In fact, as Spencer stepped into the harsh fluorescent light of the lab, a slow, chilling smile spread across Julian’s face. He leaned back in the metal chair, his tailored gray suit slightly rumpled, his eyes glittering with a toxic mixture of arrogance and envy.
"Well," Julian drawled, his voice smooth as silk. "I always wondered how long it would take a paranoid billionaire to follow a breadcrumb trail in his own basement."
Spencer kept his pistol leveled directly at Julian’s chest, his breathing slow and controlled. "Untie him, Viktor. Then explain to me, Julian, why my most trusted lawyer is sitting in an illegal laboratory in my own basement while my newborn son has been kidnapped."
Julian chuckled softly, tilting his head. "Kidnapped? Oh, Spencer, such harsh terminology. I merely reclaimed what rightfully belonged to the Warren bloodline. Or rather, what should have belonged to me."
Spencer’s eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"Did you really think your father only had two legitimate sons and one dirty little secret hidden away with Clara?" Julian asked, his voice dripping with venom. "Richard Warren was a prolific man. Too bad he was also a coward. My mother was the nurse who took care of him during his final months. On his deathbed, he confessed everything—how he cheated my mother out of her rightful share, how he left the entire empire to you while my family starved in a cramped apartment across town."
Pamela clutched her head, sobbing hysterically. "He blackmailed me, Spencer! Julian found out about the fertility clinic protocols three years ago. He threatened to expose my medical license violations, ruin my career, and destroy my family unless I harvested your frozen genetic material and gave it to his proxy, Jocelyn Cooper!"
"And Jocelyn?" Spencer demanded, his voice dangerously low. "Where is she? Where is my son?"
Julian’s smile widened, stretching into something truly demonic. "Jocelyn grew a conscience, Spencer. Can you believe it? After she carried your child for nine months, she realized what I was planning to use him for—a permanent hostage to force you to sign over fifty percent voting shares of Warren Global. She tried to run away with the baby last week. So, I had to deal with her."
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Spencer felt the floor drop out from under him. "What did you do to Jocelyn?"
"Oh, she’s resting," Julian laughed lightly. "Just like little Dexter is resting. You see, I sent my men to pick up the baby from the dumpster where Jocelyn tried to hide him—thanks to that little street rat Charlee stumbling upon him first, my timeline got a bit messy. But don't worry, Spencer. Dexter is safe. At least for another hour. If you want to see your son alive again, you’re going to sit at that computer terminal right there and sign over every single asset of Warren Global into my holding corporation."
