Chapter 2
The heavy oaken doors slammed shut behind them, cutting off the shrieks of Marguerite and the bewildered shouts of the Thorn dynasty. Outside, a sharp winter sleet lashed against the gravel drive of the estate.
"Mommy, did Aunt Marguerite get hurt?" Faye asked, her small teeth chattering as she gripped Linnea's coat.
"She will survive, darling," Linnea replied, her voice smooth and devoid of remorse. "Though her pride certainly will not."
"My tummy hurts, Mom," Beckett sniffled, burying his face into Linnea's thigh. "We didn't get any bread."
Linnea scooped Beckett into her left arm, her right hand guiding Faye and Della toward the gate. "Fifteen minutes, Beckett. I promise you a warm meal, real fire, and chocolate milk. Look at me, my boy. Have I ever broken a promise to you?"
"Never," Beckett whispered, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve.
"Good. Chin up."
Headlights pierced the freezing drizzle. A sleek, black armored Maybach rolled to an effortless halt beside them on the private road. The rear passenger door swung open immediately. A tall man in a tailored overcoat and wire-rimmed spectacles stepped out into the rain, holding an oversized umbrella over the children.
"Right on schedule, Miss Thorn," the man said smoothly. "I heard a crash from the gates. Did you break the good china?"
"Julian," Linnea said, passing Beckett gently into the heated interior of the leather cabin. "I broke Marguerite’s nose and Father’s composure. Now get the girls inside before the frost catches their lungs."
Julian Vance, senior managing partner of Vance & Sterling Financial, chuckled quietly as he buckled Della and Faye into the warm rear seats. "The staff inside will be cleaning marrow from the drapes until sunrise."
"Let them," Linnea said, sliding into the leather seat beside her children. The car's climate control instantly wrapped them in soothing heat. "Did the Chancery Court seal the final injunction?"
"At precisely five o'clock this afternoon," Julian answered, pulling a thick manila dossier from his leather briefcase and handing it across the console. "Judge Abernathy signed it under expedited jurisdiction. The deed transfer is irrevocable. All sixty-two acres, the manor house, the stables, and the offshore holding accounts belong exclusively to you."
"And Edward’s signature on the mezzanine loan?" Linnea asked, flipping through the notarized stamps.
"Defaulted as of midnight yesterday," Julian replied with razor-sharp satisfaction. "Your father borrowed forty million dollars against the estate to cover his failed shipping venture in Singapore. He had no idea his creditor was an offshore subsidiary controlled entirely by you."
Della tugged on Linnea’s damp wool sleeve, her wide eyes reflecting the soft glow of the interior dashboard. "Mommy, is Grandfather going to send the police after us?"
Linnea pulled Della and Faye close against her sides, kissing their cold foreheads. "No, sweet girl. Grandfather is going to be far too busy packing his own bags to worry about us."
"Where will Grandfather sleep?" Beckett asked innocently around a butter biscuit Julian had pulled from a silver tin.
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"Somewhere very far from our dining table," Linnea murmured, watching the lights of Thorn Manor shrink into the rear window. "Julian, call the private security detail. Give them two hours to digest their stolen steak. Then empty the house."
"With pleasure, Miss Thorn."
