Chapter 3
The biting wind whipped violently at Richard’s overcoat as he marched through the snow, his polished leather shoes sinking deep into the white powder. His bodyguards scrambled out of the trailing vehicles, shouting over the storm, but Richard ignored them entirely. His heart hammered furiously in his chest as he reached the edge of the stone terrace. The sight before him made the blood in his veins turn to pure ice.
It was Noah. The three-year-old boy was curled in a fetal position, shivering so violently that his tiny teeth were chattering aloud. He was barefoot, wearing only a filthy, torn shirt that provided absolutely zero protection from the lethal Colorado winter.
"Noah?" Richard breathed, his deep voice cracking with a sudden, overwhelming surge of panic and rage.
The boy slowly opened his eyes. His eyelashes were caked in frost, and his usually rosy skin was terrifyingly pale. When he saw the towering, imposing figure of his grandfather, a weak, trembling sob escaped his blue lips.
Richard immediately tore off his heavy, expensive wool overcoat. He dropped to his knees in the snow, completely ignoring the freezing wetness seeping into his tailored trousers, and wrapped the massive coat tightly around the freezing child. He scooped the boy into his strong arms, pulling Noah’s freezing face against his warm chest.
"Grandpa..." Noah sobbed weakly, his tiny hands fumbling within the massive folds of the wool coat. He pushed his frozen, trembling fists upward, revealing the crudely carved wooden airplane with the ruined red ribbon. "I made it... I made it for your birthday."
A heavy silence fell over Richard, broken only by the howling wind. He looked down at the pathetic, beautiful little gift, and then at the locked glass doors of the terrace. He could clearly see Mark and Claudia inside, entirely oblivious, sipping champagne by the fireplace. A dark, murderous shadow passed over Richard's eyes.
"It's beautiful, Noah," Richard said, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm, lethal whisper. "It is the best gift I have ever received. Now, hold onto it tightly. We are going inside."
"They... they locked the doors," Noah whimpered, burying his cold face into Richard's warm neck.
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"They won't be locked for long," Richard promised.
He stood up, carrying the bundled child in his left arm. With his free right hand, Richard reached out and grabbed the heavy brass handle of the terrace doors. Finding it locked, he stepped back and drove the heel of his polished leather shoe directly into the locking mechanism with shattering force. The heavy doors violently burst open, crashing against the interior walls. The icy wind howled into the grand entrance hall, instantly extinguishing the nearby candles and freezing the laughter of the guests in their throats. Richard Bellacorte stepped over the threshold, bringing the storm inside with him.
