Chapter 2 - The Bloodline Clause"Block the elevators," I snapped, my corporate instincts instantly taking over the grieving father. "Frankie, get security on the private line. Nobody enters this floor without my physical authorization."
"It's too late, Mr. Vance," Savannah said softly, still sitting on the floor. She hadn't moved an inch, but her eyes were fixed on the private elevator indicator above us. "The secondary light is already lit. They aren't using the main lobby."
The chime of Elevator 2 pierced the silent penthouse like a gunshot.
The brushed-steel doors slid open to reveal three men in tailored charcoal suits. At the center stood Marcus Thorne—my late wife’s older brother, a man whose smile had all the warmth of a surgical scalpel. Flanking him were two court-appointed marshals and Arthur Sterling, the family’s legacy attorney.
"Julian," Marcus said smoothly, stepping onto my marble floor with polished Oxford shoes. "You look exhausted. Running a twelve-billion-dollar hedge fund while keeping a traumatized child locked in a golden tower takes its toll, doesn't it?"
"Get out of my house, Marcus," I growled, stepping between him and Leo.
Marcus pulled a thick leather folder from his leather briefcase and flipped it open. "I'm afraid I can't do that. As executor of Clara's trust, I filed a petition with the Surrogate’s Court this morning. Given your... unstable behavior over the past forty-eight hours—chasing hotel staff down hallways, threatening board members—the judge signed a temporary custody order."
He gestured toward Leo. "The boy comes with me to the upstate estate. For his own clinical rehabilitation."
My blood ran cold. The "estate" was a private psychiatric facility owned by a subsidiary of Thorne Industries. If Marcus got Leo behind those doors, he controlled Leo's voting shares in Vance Global—giving him complete control of the company by nightfall.
Leo shrank behind Savannah, clutching her dark blue sweater. He began to hyperventilate, his small hands clamping over his ears as his body started to violently shake.
"He's panicking!" I lunged forward, but the two marshals stepped in front of me, placing heavy hands on my shoulders.
"Don't make this difficult, Julian," Marcus said, gesturing to one of his aides to grab the boy. "He's sick. He needs real medical care, not a housemaid playing nanny."
"Touch him and I'll tear your throat out," I roared, struggling against the marshals.
"Wait," a quiet voice cut through the chaos.
Savannah stood up slowly. She didn't move away from Leo; instead, she stepped directly between the child and Marcus's aide. She reached into her faded tote bag and pulled out an old, yellowed piece of stationery.
"You might want to read this before you enforce that order, Mr. Thorne," Savannah said calmly.
May you like
Marcus sneered. "What is this trash? Stand aside, girl, before I have you arrested for obstruction."
"It's the original codicil to Clara Vance's handwritten will," Savannah replied, her voice dropping to a icy register that chilled the entire room. "Dated three days before she died in the Hamptons. The one you spent two years trying to pay the arson investigator to burn."
