Chapter 2
He dragged me toward the loading bay, where an old ambulance waited with stolen plates and tinted windows. Celeste had even thought to bring a blanket, pale blue, folded neatly over her arm like this was a nursery appointment instead of a kidnapping.
“Careful,” she snapped. “If the baby gets hurt, none of this works.”
Julian looked irritated. “Then stop whining and open the doors.”
I curled on my side, breathing the way my doctor had taught me. In for four. Out for six. Stay awake. Stay ready.
Julian mistook it for weakness.
“You were always too calm,” he said. “That was your problem, Mara. Rich girls think silence makes them powerful.”
I looked up at him. “No. Silence makes people talk.”
His face twitched.
Celeste noticed it. “What does that mean?”
Julian grabbed my chin. “It means nothing.”
But it meant everything.
It meant the federal forensic accountants had Julian’s offshore accounts. It meant the board had copies of the forged acquisition papers. It meant the U.S. Marshals had been watching him since he threatened a protected witness in his fraud case.
And it meant the abandoned warehouse was not abandoned.
It belonged to Vance Meridian.
My father had bought it twenty years ago as a failed shipping terminal. Julian thought it was forgotten because he had found it in old company maps. He never knew I kept every forgotten place inventoried, wired, insured, and watched.
A siren wailed somewhere far away.
Celeste stiffened. “Julian.”
He looked toward the shattered windows. “Relax. Local police won’t come out here fast enough.”
“Maybe we should leave her.”
“No,” he snarled. “The baby comes with us.”
Another contraction hit. I clutched the device harder. My thumb rested over the emergency trigger, but I waited. The Marshals needed the confession. The district attorney needed intent. My attorneys needed Celeste present.
Julian knelt beside me, his voice turning soft and poisonous.
“You know what the funniest part is? Your board already thinks you’re fragile. Postpartum collapse, grief, stress… it’ll be believable when Celeste and I step in as guardians.”
Celeste smiled. “People love a tragic heiress.”
I whispered, “You really rehearsed this.”
“We perfected it,” she said.
Julian leaned closer. “After tonight, your son will grow up calling her mother.”
My body shook. My vision blurred.
For one terrible second, rage almost broke my discipline.
Then my baby moved.
Small. Fierce. Alive.
I breathed.
Julian reached for me again. “Time’s up.”
I raised my eyes to his and smiled.
For the first time that night, he looked afraid.
“What?” he snapped.
I opened my hand, showing him the black trigger.
“It means,” I said, “you picked the one warehouse I owned.”
Celeste’s mouth fell open.
May you like
Julian lunged.
I pressed the button.
