Chapter 10
The underground parking bay of the St. Regis was cool and quiet, the low hum of an armored black Mercedes sedan vibrating through the concrete floor.
Laura stood beside the open rear door, gently laying the sleeping Leo across the plush leather seats. She pulled a soft cashmere blanket from the armrest, tucking it snugly around his small shoulders, making sure his bruised forehead was resting comfortably against a velvet pillow.
She smoothed a lock of hair from his temple, her fingers lingering against his soft, warm cheek.
"You're safe now, my brave boy," she whispered. "Nobody will ever touch you again."
She closed the car door softly, the heavy German latch engaging with a muted, reassuring thud.
She turned to face Carter Vance, who stood beneath the halogen lights, holding his secure satellite phone.
"Dr. Morrison has confirmed his arrival at the townhouse," Carter said. "A pediatric neurologist will be present to ensure there is no subdural hematoma. The police have already processed David and Evelyn at the precinct. They will be arraigned before the magistrate at nine o'clock tomorrow morning."
"Keep them in holding," Laura said, her voice entirely stripped of the trembling vulnerability from the ballroom. Her posture was straight, commanding, radiating the ancestral power of the Sterling-Hayes bloodline. "Deny bail. Use every legal mechanism at our disposal to ensure David does not see the light of day before his trial."
"Consider it done," Carter nodded. "And what about London, Laura?"
Laura looked down at her hands. The diamond wedding ring David had placed on her finger four years ago still rested there, mocking her with its hollow promise.
Slowly, deliberately, Laura twisted the platinum band off her finger. She walked over to the concrete drainage grate in the center of the garage floor, opened her hand, and let the ring drop. It clattered against the iron bars before vanishing into the dark, stagnant water below.
"Call the flight crew at Teterboro," Laura commanded, turning back to her lawyer. "Have the Gulfstream fueled and ready on the tarmac by midnight."
Carter blinked, surprised. "You're going to London tonight?"
"Vivian thought she could use a weak, greedy coward to break me," Laura said, her eyes flashing with cold, unyielding fire under the fluorescent lights. "She thought she could orchestrate my son’s abuse from three thousand miles away so she could steal my father’s empire."
"She has an entire team of international solicitors, Laura," Carter warned quietly. "She has prepared for this for years."
"She can have an army of solicitors, Carter," Laura said, stepping toward the driver's side of the sedan. "She forgot who our father trained to run the shipping lines before he got sick. She forgot that I am the one who knows where the foundation ledgers are buried."
Laura reached into her evening bag, pulled out her personal smartphone, and unlocked the screen.
A single notification was flashing on the encrypted messaging application: an unlisted number with a UK country code, received exactly two minutes ago.
Laura tapped the screen.
The message read:
Did David play his part, little sister? Or do I need to send someone who actually knows how to take what is mine?
Laura didn't hesitate. Her fingers moved across the glass with icy, deliberate speed as she typed her response:
David is in handcuffs. The money is frozen. Pack your bags, Vivian. I’m landing at Heathrow at dawn.
She hit send, powered down the device, and climbed into the back seat beside her sleeping son.
May you like
"Drive, Carter," Laura said softly into the partition. "Take us home."
The black sedan surged forward, its tires gripping the smooth concrete as it ascended the ramp into the bright, blinding daylight of the city, leaving the ruins of the Bennett family behind in the dust.
