The sight of the black surveillance van, discreetly parked under the service garden canopy, hit Claudia harder than any threat from Eleanor ever could. This wasn't the threat of law or divorce; it was the threat of humiliation, of their forbidden desire being exposed in a court of law. They had become undeniable proof of Mario's infidelity and, even worse, evidence that Claudia had abandoned her professional ethics.
"They've seen us," Claudia whispered, the words barely leaving her throat. Fear was cold, but the sweat of their recent act still burned her skin.
Mario, seated in his chair, showed no panic. Instead, a controlled fury ignited in his gray eyes.
"That van wasn't here an hour ago. Eleanor trusts no one—not even Burton. She put him on surveillance, not patrol. She wants documented proof to destroy me in the divorce," Mario said, typing furiously on his chair's control panel. "The game has changed. If they managed to record anything from a few minutes ago… that's the most powerful weapon she has. Proof of our betrayal."
A pang of terror shot through Claudia. The freedom and passion they'd felt moments before now revealed themselves as a dangerous tactical mistake.
"We need to get to the study. I need a few minutes to wipe the log from my main computer and disable the cameras pointing toward the escape route. If Burton is still inside, we have to be ghosts."
They hurried toward the service elevator. Mario used his biometric access to lock it, ensuring no one else could use it. Urgency mingled with a strange awareness: this was their last "date" in the glass palace that had been their prison.
They reached the control room, a circular chamber lined with monitoring screens. Mario positioned himself at the main console, his hands flying over the controls despite his immobility.
"Tell me the exact time we entered the room," Mario ordered.
Claudia checked her watch, recalling the moment their passion had begun.
"It was 12:15 a.m. We left at 1:10 a.m., when Burton's alarm went off."
"Perfect. Here we go." Mario focused. On the screens, lines of code slithered like snakes. He wasn't just deleting data; he was rewriting the activity log for that hour. He manipulated the external camera footage to loop the previous hour. Anyone reviewing it would see an hour of complete calm.
"The Forbidden Archive… can you erase it?" Claudia asked, using their code name for their recorded intimacy.
"The internal cameras don't record to my network—they feed a mirrored server that Eleanor can access. But they do record my wheelchair's activity. I've deleted my location log for the upper floor during that hour. The system will assume I was here, sleeping, or in the library. That's the only protection I can offer. If the van recorded through the window… it's a risk we have to take." Mario wiped sweat from his brow, exhausted by the mental effort and adrenaline.
The deletion process took ten minutes that felt like a lifetime. Mario disabled most of the security cameras covering the service corridors and the route to the hangar, creating a "blind spot" that would last an hour—long enough to escape.
"Now, the hardest part," Mario said, his voice regaining its deep intimacy. He looked at Claudia, his gray eyes filled with a mixture of love and urgent need. "The motorized chair is too noisy for the escape. I'm leaving it here. You'll have to transfer me to the manual transport chair."
The act was brutally intimate. The manual chair was cumbersome and heavy, and transferring him required immense physical effort from Claudia, revealing Mario's complete dependence.
Claudia stepped forward, determination etched on her face.
"Give me instructions."
She knelt, unlocked Mario's motorized chair, and helped him slide into the simpler transport chair. The contact of their bodies was intense—not from passion, but from the gravity of the task. Their muscles tensed, their breathing synchronized with the effort. Once Mario was secure, their eyes met just inches apart.
"Claudia," Mario said, taking her by the collar of her uniform and drawing her close. "There's no turning back. This isn't just an escape. It's a life-or-death choice. Are you sure you want to leave your life behind for an uncertain flight?"
"My life was empty before you, Mario. This… this is real. Everything we did was real," she replied, leaning in.
Mario smiled—a smile of total triumph. This was the "Parting Kiss," the emotional climax of their ordeal. She kissed him deeply, desperately, a vow of silence and a declaration of war against Eleanor. He used every ounce of strength in his arms to return the kiss, his hands tangling in her hair, drawing her close until she felt the rigidity of his body against hers—a final reminder of what they had risked.
"The briefcase. Take it. Let's go," Mario commanded, breaking the embrace.
Claudia grabbed the leather case containing Eleanor's documents and placed it on Mario's lap. Slowly, she began to push the chair. The small squeak of the wheels against the marble floor sounded like thunder in the silent mansion.
They descended the service elevator and entered the labyrinthine service corridors. The path was dark, lit only by emergency lights. Claudia pushed the chair up the ramp toward the garage. Every muscle in her body screamed from exertion, but adrenaline kept pain at bay. She constantly glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see Burton's shadow.
Finally, they reached the underground garage. The car Mario had prepared wasn't a luxury vehicle, but a discreet black SUV with tinted windows and temporary plates.
"The final transfer, Claudia. This one's the most critical," Mario whispered.
Claudia opened the rear door and, with supreme effort, lifted Mario from the transport chair into the back seat. The process was slow, intimate, and taxing. Once Mario was secure, Claudia felt a sharp mixture of relief and exhaustion.
She slid into the driver's seat. Mario secured, the briefcase of evidence at his feet, she took the keys.
"Ready, my love?" Claudia asked, checking the rearview mirror.
"Ready, my conspirator. Drive. And don't look back," Mario said.
Claudia started the engine. The roar in the garage sealed their fate.
Claudia drove the SUV out of the garage, following the service tunnel to the private road. As she emerged and slowed at the curve leading into the forest, two things froze her in place. First, the black surveillance van, still parked. Second, just in front of it, illuminated by the SUV headlights, stood Eleanor Hawthorne. Impeccably dressed for travel and wearing white gloves, she blocked the road, phone in hand, her terrifying smile revealing that she had anticipated their escape.
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