Chapter 7 - THE DEVIL'S BARGAINThe world spun out of control once again.
I sat in the dim light of my home office, surrounding myself with legal files, birth registries, and military records. I had twenty-eight days. Twenty-eight days to raise two hundred million dollars or prove my paternity in a federal court that was moving at a snail's pace—while federal agents monitored every move my family made.
My phone rang. It was an unlisted, secure line.
I picked it up. "Knight."
"Hello, my son," a voice rasped from the speaker.
It was Victoria. She was calling from the maximum-security federal holding facility in Virginia, awaiting her trial.
"I have nothing to say to you," I spat, about to slam the receiver down.
"If you hang up, Ethan," Victoria said quickly, her voice dripping with venomous confidence, "you will lose Oliver and Mia to the federal government by the end of the month. You know I'm right."
I gripped the phone tightly. "Did you set this up? Did you orchestrate the debt clause?!"
Victoria laughed—a dry, bitter cackle that made my skin crawl.
"Of course I did, darling. Do you really think I didn't have a contingency plan in case you betrayed me? I tied the Vance debt to the Knight offshore holdings. I am the only person on earth who holds the decryption keys to unlock the hidden Swiss accounts that can wipe out that two-hundred-million-dollar liability in ten seconds."
"What do you want?" I growled through gritted teeth.
"A full pardon," Victoria said smoothly. "You use your military connections, your friends at the Pentagon, and General Vance to drop all charges against me. You sign an affidavit stating that you voluntarily handed Mia to me eight years ago and that the entire kidnapping story was a misunderstanding. I go free, I unlock the accounts, the debt is cleared, and you get to keep your little rustic family."
"I will see you rot in hell before I sign a pardon for you!" I screamed into the phone.
"Then watch your children be dragged away by social services in four weeks, Ethan," Victoria whispered coldly. "You have your military pride. But do you have what it takes to save your family? You have seven days to make your decision."
The line went dead.
I smashed the phone against the oak desk, shattering it into pieces. I buried my face in my hands, gasping for air. I had fought in wars, survived ambushes, and faced down death dozens of times—but I had never felt this helpless.
Suddenly, the office door clicked open.
Emily walked in slowly, leaning slightly on a wooden walking stick. She looked at the shattered phone, then at me.
She walked over, sat down on the edge of the desk, and wrapped her arms around my neck.
"She called you, didn't she?" Emily asked softly.
"She wants a pardon, Emily," I sobbed into her shoulder. "If I don't give her what she wants, they're going to take Mia and Oliver away. I can't defeat her. The law is on her side. The paperwork is airtight."
Emily took my face in her hands, forcing me to look her straight in the eye. Her green eyes were no longer those of a weak, victimized woman in a hospital bed. They were burning with an ancient, unbreakable fire.
"Ethan," Emily said firmly. "Your mother thinks she's the smartest person in the room because she spent thirty years playing political games. But she forgot one simple thing."
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"What?" I asked.
"She forgot who my father was," Emily smiled dark and cold. "My father wasn't just an oil tycoon, Ethan. He was the founder of the most ruthless intelligence network in South America before he died. And before he vanished... he left me something that your mother's lawyers never found."
