Chapter 4 - SHADOWS OF THE PAST
Three weeks later.
The high-pitched laughter of our daughter echoed through the sprawling living room of my Manhattan penthouse. Willa was now a healthy, chubby, seven-week-old baby whose cheeks were rosy and whose eyes sparkled with life.
Sloan sat on the plush cashmere rug, playing with Willa using a plush soft toy, looking radiant. Color had returned to her face, her body had recovered, and she was wearing one of my silk button-down shirts, looking so breathtakingly beautiful it took my breath away every time I walked into the room.
I had officially stepped back from daily operations at Blackwood Global, handing over management to my senior vice presidents so I could work exclusively from home. For three weeks, our life felt like a dream. I learned how to change diapers, how to warm bottles to the exact right temperature, and how to rock Willa to sleep at 3:00 AM while humming old songs.
However, a new, dark shadow was quietly creeping toward our newfound paradise.
At 2:00 PM, while Sloan was putting Willa down for her afternoon nap in the nursery, my private phone chimed on the desk in my home office. It was an encrypted text message from Marcus, my head of security.
Boss, we have a major problem. Julian Vance’s legal team filed for emergency bail this morning, claiming health complications. A corrupt judge signed off. Julian is out on bail. And two hours ago, his primary offshore bank accounts were liquidated.
I stood up from my desk, my jaw tightening into stone. Where is he now? I texted back.
We lost track of his vehicle on the George Washington Bridge, Marcus replied. He’s off the grid, Vincent. He has nothing left to lose.
A cold chill ran down my spine. A man with billions of dollars, facing thirty years in federal prison, who suddenly goes off the grid with liquidated cash is the most dangerous predator on earth. He wouldn't flee the country without getting his final revenge.
Suddenly, the lights inside the penthouse flickered violently and died.
The central air conditioning hummed to a halt. The floor-to-ceiling electronic security locks on the penthouse entrance emitted a sharp beep-beep-beep as the primary power grid failed, automatically reverting to manual override.
"Vincent?" Sloan’s voice called out nervously from the nursery down the hallway. "The power just went out!"
"Sloan! Stay in the nursery! Lock the door!" I shouted, reaching into my desk drawer and pulling out a heavy, sleek black sidearm I kept for high-level emergencies.
Before I could reach the hallway, the heavy oak entrance doors of the penthouse were violently kicked open with a thunderous CRACK.
Through the dim, shadow-filled living room stepped three men wearing dark tactical gear and ballistic masks, holding heavy submachine guns. Walking slowly behind them, holding a suppressed pistol, was Julian Vance.
His eyes were sunken, his suit rumpled, looking like a madman who had lost his sanity.
"Hello, Vincent," Julian rasped, his voice dripping with venomous pleasure. "Did you really think a few federal indictments would keep me locked away while you play happy family in your palace?"
I stepped out into the living room, stepping between Julian’s armed men and the hallway leading to the nursery where Sloan and Willa were hiding. I kept my weapon concealed behind my back.
"You're making a mistake, Julian," I said, my voice dead calm, buying every second I could for Marcus and my security team to respond to the automated silent alarm that triggered when the power died. "If you step out of this building as a murderer, every law enforcement agency on the planet will hunt you down."
"I don't care about the future, Vincent!" Julian screamed, his composure completely snapping. "You took my company! You took my reputation! You took my freedom! I have fifty million dollars in a Swiss account and a private jet waiting at Teterboro Airport. But I am not getting on that plane until I see you suffer the way I suffered!"
Julian gestured to his men. "Find the woman and the baby. Bring them out here."
"Touch them, and I will tear you apart with my bare hands," I snarled, stepping forward.
One of the tactical mercenaries raised the butt of his submachine gun, slamming it violently into my shoulder. I stumbled back against the wall, but I didn't drop my weapon.
"Search the nursery!" Julian ordered, pointing his suppressed pistol toward the hallway.
May you like
My blood turned to liquid fire. I looked at the mercenary standing closest to me, saw his finger tightening on his trigger, and realized there was no more time for talk.
If I didn't fight now, my wife and child would die.
