Chapter 4 - THE SNAKES IN THE SHADOWS
Within thirty minutes, the quiet, rundown street in East Harlem was disrupted by the arrival of a high-tech private transport ambulance, accompanied by two black SUVs belonging to Parker Global Security.
Paramedics carefully lifted Martha Reynolds onto a gurney, placing an oxygen mask over her face and connecting her to portable monitors. Emma stood by the doorway, holding Noah tightly, her eyes wide with fear as she watched her grandmother being wheeled away.
“She’s going to be fine, Emma,” William said, standing beside her, resting a hand gently on her shoulder. “Dr. Harrison is the best cardiologist in the state. She’s in good hands.”
Just as they stepped out into the building hallway to follow the paramedics down, a voice echoed up the stairwell.
“Oh! What’s going on here? Is the old woman finally kicking the bucket?”
A woman in her mid-forties came waddling up the stairs, holding a cigarette in one hand and a cheap plastic handbag in the other. She had dark, bleached-blonde hair, heavy makeup, and a sharp, rodent-like face. Behind her was a skinny man wearing a leather jacket, looking around the hallway with shifty, nervous eyes.
Emma froze. Her grip on Noah tightened instantly.
“Mrs. Wilson...” Emma whispered, stepping behind William’s tall frame.
It was the neighbor. The woman who had left Noah with them four months ago promising to return in a week, and then stopped answering her door.
Mrs. Wilson stopped on the landing, her eyes widening as she noticed William’s tailored suit, the burly security guards in dark suits standing near the stairs, and the paramedics carrying Martha down.
“Well, well, well,” Mrs. Wilson sneered, eyeing William up and down. “Who are you? The social worker? Or did old Martha finally find herself a rich benefactor?”
William didn't move an inch. “Who are you?”
“I’m Brenda Wilson,” she said proudly, taking a puff from her cigarette. “And that baby you’ve got there belongs to my niece, Brenda Jr. I came up here to get him back.”
Emma gasped, her face going deathly pale. “No! You left him! You said he was a burden! You haven't checked on him in four months!”
“Shut up, you brat!” Brenda snapped, pointing a long, acrylic fingernail at Emma. “I let your grandmother babysit! Now I want my niece’s kid back. In fact, we’re taking him today.”
The skinny man beside Brenda stepped forward, reaching out toward Noah’s blanket. “Yeah, hand the kid over.”
Before the man’s fingers could even get close to the baby, Michael—William’s driver—stepped out from the shadows of the doorway. In one fluid, terrifying movement, Michael grabbed the man’s arm, twisted it back, and slammed his chest flat against the hallway wall with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs.
“Touch the child again,” Michael growled in the man’s ear, “and I will break your wrist in three places.”
The man shrieked in pain. Brenda screamed, dropping her cigarette. “Police! Assault! You can't touch us! That kid is our legal property!”
William walked slowly toward Brenda Wilson.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't lose his composure. But the sheer coldness radiating from his presence made Brenda step backward until her heels hit the top step of the stairwell.
“Legal property?” William asked softly. “Four months ago, you abandoned an infant child with an elderly woman suffering from congestive heart failure and an eleven-year-old girl. You provided no financial support, no medical care, and no contact.”
“We were busy!” Brenda stammered, panic finally setting in as she realized this man wasn't a meek social worker she could bully. “My niece had... medical issues!”
“Your niece,” William continued, pulling his phone from his pocket, “is currently sitting in a state correctional facility in upstate New York serving a sentence for drug possession, according to the background check my security team ran ten minutes ago while we were in the apartment.”
Brenda’s mouth fell open. Her face flushed a dark, guilty red.
“You didn't come here today to get the baby because you love him,” William said, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper. “You came here because you heard from the building super that a man in a tailor-made suit went up to 4B. You thought you could use this child to shake me down for money.”
“I... I have rights!” Brenda choked out.
“You have the right to remain silent,” William replied coldly.
He glanced over his shoulder at his chief of security, a sharp-faced man named Vance who had just walked up the stairs holding a leather tablet.
“Vance,” William said. “Contact Child Protective Services and the District Attorney’s office. I want Brenda Wilson and her accomplice charged with felony child abandonment, extortion, and child endangerment. Make sure the bail is set high enough that they won't see the sun for a very long time.”
“Right away, Mr. Parker,” Vance replied, pulling out his phone.
Brenda and the skinny man turned around and fled down the stairs, tripping over each other in their hurry to escape.
William turned back to Emma. She was shaking, tears running down her face, clutching Noah as if someone were trying to tear him away.
“Mr. Parker...” Emma sobbed. “Are they going to take Noah away? Is CPS going to put him in a foster home? Please don't let them take him! I’m the only mother he knows!”
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William walked over to her, knelt down until he was eye-level with the terrified girl, and looked straight into her eyes.
“Emma,” William said, his voice softer than Michael had ever heard it in ten years of service. “Nobody is taking Noah. Nobody is taking you. I promise you on my life.”
