I was the daughter who paid the $1,845 mortgage every month, yet my parents told me to become independent while my 35-year-old brother lived rent-free—then, less than 24 hours after I left, I discovered they’d already given away my bedroom while still expecting me to fund their house. / Chapter 66 / 90

Chapter 66 - The Breach at Sub-Level 7

*"Cassidy?!"* Donald’s voice cracked through the open frequency, his eyes wide and bloodshot in the glare of his truck’s tilted headlights. *"Where are you?! What did you do to the ground?!"*

"You are trespassing on property secured under a federal maritime receivership," Cassidy's voice echoed through the trees, completely devoid of emotion. "Every step you take on that asphalt is a felony violation of Section 4 of the Cascadia Strategic Reserves Act. The sheriff is currently en route with the state police tactical unit. You have four minutes to abandon your vehicle, lay face down on the gravel, and wait for the authorities."

*"You lying bitch!"* Donald roared, his face contorting into an animalistic snarl of fury. He ran to the passenger side of his truck, reaching into the glove compartment, and pulled out an emergency keycard wrapped in heavy plastic—a secondary override key Eleanor had stolen from Arthur's desk decades ago. *"You think you're smart because you found the bunker?! Eleanor gave me the master code for the shaft! I’m coming down there, Cassidy! You’re not taking my money!"*

Donald turned away from his sinking truck and sprinted toward the old wellhouse at the rear of the property—the disguised secondary egress elevator that led directly into the vertical maintenance shaft.

"Arthur!" Cassidy barked. "Can he access the sub-levels from the wellhouse?"

Arthur’s fingers flew over the secondary security station. "The wellhouse runs on the auxiliary hydraulic circuit. It’s an unmonitored mechanical drop. He doesn't have the codes for Level 4, but the wellhouse elevator automatically bypasses the upper chambers and drops straight to the service airlock at Sub-Level 7—right above our heads!"

On the monitoring matrix, an indicator light flashed amber, then red:

`AUXILIARY SHAFT CAR ENGAGED.`

`DESCENT IN PROGRESS: CAR VELOCITY 12 METERS PER SECOND.`

`DESTINATION: SUB-LEVEL 7 BULKHEAD.`

"He's coming down in a freefall carriage," Arthur said, his voice trembling. "He's armed, Cassidy. When he fled the courtroom, the bailiff found an empty holster in his locker. He has a nine-millimeter registered under Eleanor’s name."

Cassidy did not flinch. She did not panic. Seven years of cold, calculating survival under the roof of Eleanor Vance had burned every trace of fear out of her heart.

She walked to the weapons locker set into the bulkhead wall of the central rotunda. She punched in the administrative override code. The heavy steel door popped open, revealing the standard equipment of the maritime security detachment that had once guarded the installation: non-lethal acoustic neutralization arrays, tactical spotlights, and a set of heavy pressurized gas controls.

"Donald spent his entire life being protected by our mother," Cassidy said, lifting the acoustic frequency controller from the rack. "He never learned what happens when the door doesn't open just because he screams."

She looked up at the ceiling where the massive steel beams of Sub-Level 7 groaned under the arrival of the descending carriage.