Chapter 8 - The Weight of SilenceThe federal agents cleared the building within twenty minutes, hauling Julian Vance and his associates out into the flashing red and blue lights of a dozen cruisers parked along 4th Avenue. The storm had finally begun to ease, leaving behind a slick, silver sheet of water across the Seattle streets that reflected the Christmas lights of downtown like shattered glass.
Inside the Hail & Hearth Toy Gallery, the damage was extensive. Shattered glass crunched underfoot, the front security shutters were mangled beyond repair, and the velvet display risers were peppered with bullet holes.
Yet, in the center of the showroom, sitting cross-legged on the plush Persian rug near the grand fireplace, Ren and Nova were fast asleep.
Ren’s head was pillowed on Nova’s shoulder, her stubborn little ponytail coming undone, spilling soft brown waves across her forehead. Nova’s mustard yellow beanie had slipped off, revealing a mop of curly blonde hair. They looked like ordinary six-year-olds now—exhausted, safe, and profoundly innocent.
Gideon stood by the fireplace, holding a mug of cold coffee he hadn't touched in an hour. Sienna walked up beside him, wrapping a heavy wool blanket around his shoulders.
"CPS officer is waiting outside in the car," Sienna said softly, her voice carrying a trace of hesitation. "She’s got a temporary foster placement lined up with a family in Bellevue. Good people. Certified, vetted, suburban."
Gideon didn't move. He stared into the dying embers of the fireplace, watching the orange sparks drift upward and die against the brick chimney.
Certified. Vetted. Suburban.
The exact words his own parents had used when they dropped him off at boarding school at age nine. You'll be safe there, Gideon. Everything is structured.
"No," Gideon said quietly.
Sienna paused. "Gideon, you can't adopt two federal-case children on a whim. The legal red tape alone will take years. The FBI, the courts, the asset trustees—"
"I didn't say I was adopting them today, Sienna," Gideon interrupted, turning his head to look at her, his eyes steady and unyielding. "I said they aren't going to Bellevue."
"Then where are they going?"
Gideon looked back down at the two girls sleeping on the rug. Ren let out a soft, murmuring sigh in her sleep, her small hand twitching before curling tightly around the edge of Gideon’s cashmere sweater that she was still wearing.
"Upstairs," Gideon said simply. "In the guest suite above the office. It has two bedrooms, a private entrance, and enough security to keep out every bounty hunter between here and Zurich."
May you like
Sienna stared at him for a long moment, a slow, genuine smile breaking across her tired face. She reached out and touched his arm. "You're a terrible businessman, Gideon Hail."
"I know," Gideon replied, taking a slow sip of his cold coffee. "My balance sheets are about to look like a disaster."
