Chapter 3 - BLOOD MONEY AND BARGAINS
Twenty-four hours later, despite the severe surgical pain, I refused to stay in that hospital bed. Wearing a coat over my medical gown and pushing a wheelchair, I sat in the NICU glass room, watching my tiny, fragile baby girl. She weighed less than four pounds, covered in wires, her tiny chest rising and falling with the help of a machine.
I pressed my hand against the glass. "I will protect you," I whispered. "No matter what it costs."
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the NICU swung open.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor. I turned to see Beatrice Vance walking toward me, dressed in an expensive cashmere coat, wearing oversized dark sunglasses to hide her bloodshot eyes. Two heavily armed private security guards stood behind her.
Despite the FBI raids, the Vance family’s extreme wealth granted them temporary bail while their lawyers fought the federal indictments.
"You look terrible, Evelyn," Beatrice said, her voice dripping with venom as she stood on the other side of the glass, looking at my daughter with utter coldness.
"Get out of here, Beatrice," I said calmly, my hand remaining on the glass. "You're violating the restraining order."
Beatrice laughed—a bitter, hollow sound. "A restraining order? Do you really think a piece of paper stops a family that built this city? You think you won because you brought a few federal agents to my house?"
She stepped closer, leaning over my wheelchair, lowering her voice so the hospital nurses couldn't hear.
"Arthur’s legal team found a loophole in the federal warrant," Beatrice whispered smugly. "Half the evidence you gathered was taken from a server legally registered under my name, not Julian's. Our lawyers are filing a motion to suppress all of it tomorrow morning. The federal charges against Julian will be dropped by next week."
My heart hammered, but I kept my face an emotionless mask. "And the poison? The physical assault? I have thirty witnesses who watched him hit me."
"Witnesses?" Beatrice sneered. "You mean our wealthy friends? Do you really think any of them will testify against us in court? They’ve already signed affidavits claiming you threw yourself into the table in a hysterical episode. And as for the poison... good luck proving Julian did it. We’ve already paid off your former physician to claim he prescribed those supplements to you legally."
She reached into her Hermes handbag and pulled out a thick, white envelope, tossing it onto my lap.
"There is five million dollars in cashier's checks in that envelope," Beatrice said, her eyes gleaming with ruthless authority. "Sign over your parental rights to that child right now. Julian and Chloe will raise her as the rightful Vance heir. You take the money, leave the country, and never speak the name Vance again."
I picked up the envelope containing five million dollars.
I looked at Beatrice, then looked at my tiny baby fighting for her life inside the glass box.
Slowly, deliberately, I gripped the envelope... and ripped it in half.
Then into quarters.
Then into tiny pieces, letting the bits of paper fall like snow over Beatrice’s designer shoes.
"My daughter’s name isn't Vance," I said, looking straight into Beatrice's soul. "Her name is Hope. And she will never, ever carry the blood of monsters."
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Beatrice’s face contorted with rage. She leaned down until her face was inches from mine. "Then you just signed your own death warrant, girl. You have forty-eight hours before we take everything you have left."
Hook: She turned and walked away. But as she left, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was an anonymous text from an encrypted number: “Look at the bottom drawer of your old office desk at the Vance Estate. There’s something Arthur hid even from his lawyers.”
