Chapter 9
Z
The tires of Vincent’s armored SUV shrieked as he took the corner on two wheels, blowing straight through a red light toward Saint Jude’s Academy.
I was in the passenger seat, frantically trying to reach the school principal, but every call went straight to static. The entire communications grid around the private campus had been jammed.
"She took them," I gasped, holding my chest as hyperventilation threatened to seize my lungs. "Vincent, she took the boys!"
"She won't get off the peninsula," Vincent said, his voice dropping into a register of terrifying, cold fury. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were stark white. "I have private security units blocking every marina, private airstrip, and highway out of Dade County."
We pulled into the grand archway of Saint Jude’s Academy five minutes later.
The scene was pure chaos. School administrators were running frantically across the lawn, and two of Vincent’s security guards were sitting groggily against the front steps, bleeding from small dart wounds on their necks. Neurotoxin tranquillizers—fast-acting and professional.
Vincent threw open his door and stormed up the steps, grabbing the principal by his collar. "WHERE ARE THEY?!"
"Mr. Moretti!" the principal stammered, shaking with terror. "A woman... she had full legal custody papers signed by a federal judge in Geneva! She had the children's original birth certificates! The guards tried to stop her, but her men overwhelmed them!"
I ran to the sleeping guards, picking up one of the spent brass darts lying in the grass.
It bore the exact same red marking as the chemical canisters from the sub-basement HVAC system in New York.
"She wasn't just hiding," I said, stepping up beside Vincent, my eyes burning with realization. "Isabella wasn't a victim of Dr. Blake or Julian. She was running the entire operation from Europe."
Vincent stared at the dart, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched violently in his cheek. "She faked her death to escape my father's board investigations four years ago. She was embezzling billions from the Moretti accounts."
"And when she realized you weren't going to step down as CEO," I added, connecting the dots, "she used Julian and Blake to slowly incapacitate the boys. She knew if the children were terminally ill, you would eventually break and forfeit control of the company."
"She didn't count on you coming into the house," Vincent looked at me, his eyes softening for a fraction of a second amidst the storm raging inside him. "You saved them, so now she’s taking them by force."
Suddenly, his phone chimed. A text message from an encrypted satellite address.
It was a live GPS ping location, updating in real time, accompanied by a video file.
Vincent tapped the video.
The footage showed Lucas and Leo sitting in the back of a luxury tinted van. They weren't tied up, but they looked terrified, holding each other's hands tight. Sitting across from them was an extraordinarily beautiful woman with platinum blonde hair, wearing a sleek trench coat, idly swirling a glass of champagne.
"Say hello to your father, boys," Isabella’s voice came through the phone speaker.
"Daddy!" Lucas cried out toward the camera. "She says she’s our mommy, but she doesn't feel like mommy! Where is Claire?!"
Isabella’s smile vanished instantly in the video, replaced by an expression of pure, icy venom. She looked directly into the camera lens as if staring straight into my soul.
"If you want your sons alive, Vincent, come to the abandoned dry docks on Key Biscayne," Isabella said coldly. "Come alone. If I see a single police car, or if your little nanny nanny-in-chief tries to follow you... I will give the boys the final dose Dr. Blake left behind."
The video cut to black.
Vincent looked at me, his face a mask of agonizing pain. "Stay here, Claire. Call the federal marshals."
"Are you insane?!" I shouted, grabbing his lapels. "It's a trap, Vincent! She wants you dead so she can inherit the estate as the surviving biological parent!"
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"They have a gun to my sons' heads, Claire!" he yelled back, tears finally breaking through his hard exterior. "I don't care if it's a trap! I would walk into hell a thousand times over for them!"
"I know you would," I said softly, loosening my grip on his shirt and looking him straight in the eyes. "Which is why I'm going with you."
