Noah to reveal that he had made the toy for his grandfather’s birthday.

An hour had passed. The grand entrance hall had been silently and efficiently cleared of the wreckage. The splintered wood, shattered crystal, and ruined gifts had been swept away, leaving only the dark, ominous stain of spilled wine seeping into the hardwood floor.

Noah was finally sleeping soundly in the master bedroom upstairs, wrapped in heavy heated blankets, an IV line feeding warm saline into his small arm. The color had returned to his cheeks, and a trusted bodyguard was stationed inside the room, with two more standing guard at the door. The boy was safe.

Now, it was time for the reckoning.

Richard stood alone by the fireplace, staring into the dying embers. He held a crystal glass of bourbon in his hand, though he hadn't taken a single sip. The wooden airplane rested safely on the mantle above the fire. The heavy iron door leading to the basement groaned loudly as it was unlocked.

"Bring them up," Richard's voice echoed through the empty hall.

Heavy footsteps pounded up the wooden stairs. Vance and three other enforcers emerged from the dark corridor, dragging Mark and Claudia with them.

The hour in the freezing, unheated cellar had destroyed whatever defiance they had left. Both of them were shivering violently, their lips blue, their expensive clothes ruined and stained. Mark could barely stand, his shattered jaw swollen to twice its normal size, his eyes wide with animalistic terror. Claudia was sobbing silently, completely broken, her teeth chattering so hard they clicked rhythmically in the quiet room.

The guards shoved them forward, forcing them to their knees on the hardwood floor, directly in front of the fireplace.

Richard slowly turned around. He looked down at the two miserable creatures trembling at his feet. He took a slow, deliberate sip of his bourbon, savoring the burn, letting the agonizing silence stretch out until he could smell the raw fear radiating from them.

"Dad..." Mark tried to speak, his voice heavily slurred from his broken jaw. "Please... we learned our lesson. It's over."

Richard slowly lowered his glass. A cold, terrifying smile touched the corners of his mouth.

"Over?" Richard whispered, stepping forward until the toes of his polished leather shoes were inches from Mark's bleeding hands. "My dear boy, we haven't even begun. Vance?"

"Yes, Boss?" Vance stepped forward, his hand resting on his holstered weapon.

"Take the cars. Drive them out to the old hunting cabin on the ridge," Richard commanded, his voice dead of all emotion. "Leave them there. No heat. No phones. No winter coats."

Claudia screamed, a horrifying, guttural sound, realizing exactly what that meant. The hunting cabin was ten miles deep in the wilderness, completely isolated in the middle of a lethal blizzard. It was a death sentence.

"And Vance?" Richard added, his eyes locking onto Mark's terrified face as the guards hauled them violently to their feet.