Chapter 4 - THE SIEGE OF DOCKLANDSConcussion shockwaves threw me backward across the floor. Dust, smoke, and burning debris filled the air.
“CLAIRE!” I screamed through the ringing silence in my ears.
Through the haze of smoke, heavy tactical boots marched into the room. Mercenaries wearing night-vision goggles and holding suppressed assault rifles fanned out in a lethal formation.
Leading them wasn't Ethan.
It was my mother.
She walked into the ruined safehouse wearing a sleek black coat, holding a pearl-handled pistol. Her face was cold, devoid of any maternal warmth, replaced by pure, psychotic ambition.
“Look at you, Julian,” she sneered, her voice cutting through the ringing in my head. “Living in the dirt with the vermin.”
Vanessa drew her weapon, but a mercenary slammed the butt of his rifle into her temple, knocking her unconscious onto the floor.
“DON’T TOUCH HER!” I roared, trying to scramble up, but two heavy boots pinned my back and shoulders to the concrete floor. A gun barrel pressed cold against the back of my neck.
Claire woke up screaming, instinctively pulling the newborn baby tight against her chest as she backed against the far wall of the room.
“Mother... please...” Claire wept, her voice trembling. “Take the land... take everything... just let my baby live!”
My mother walked slowly toward Claire, her high heels clicking loudly against the concrete. She stopped right above her, looking down at the crying infant with sheer disgust.
“A bastard child born in a dirty hole,” my mother said coldly. “You think this child gives you leverage, Claire? You think this weak little thing guarantees your place in our bloodline?”
“She isn't a bastard,” I choked out, fighting against the foot pressing onto my spine. “She’s my daughter, Mother! Look at her shoulder! Look at the mark!”
My mother froze. She slowly turned her head to look at me, then looked down at the baby.
For a fraction of a second, surprise flickered in her eyes. But then, it was replaced by a sinister, horrifying laughter.
“Oh, Julian...” my mother cackled, a wicked grin stretching across her face. “You stupid, naive boy. Do you really think I didn't know?”
My breath caught in my throat. “What?”
“I knew about Monaco,” my mother whispered, leaning down closer to Claire. “I was the one who suggested it to Ethan! We needed an heir that carried pure blood, but Ethan was infertile from an accident in his youth! We used you, Julian! You were nothing more than a stud to produce a legal heir for Ethan’s corporate board!”
The world seemed to stop turning.
Every lie, every piece of the puzzle fell into place with devastating horror. They hadn't just abused Claire; they had used me as a tool to create an heir so Ethan could legally claim the billions tied up in Claire’s father’s trust fund, which required a living blood successor!
“And now,” my mother said, drawing her pistol and leveling it at Claire’s head, “the baby is born. The trust opens automatically upon the registration of her birth certificate. We don't need either of you anymore.”
“NO!” I screamed, flexing every muscle in my body, driving my elbow backward into the knee of the guard holding me down.
A joint popped. The guard yelled in pain, his weight shifting. I spun around, grabbing his rifle, ripping it from his hands, and firing a burst into his chest.
RAT-TAT-TAT!
The room erupted into chaos. I rolled across the floor, drawing my sidearm, firing three quick shots into the mercenary standing near my mother.
My mother shrieked, ducking behind a concrete pillar.
“KILL HIM! KILL HIM NOW!” she screamed.
I lunged toward Claire, wrapping my body over her and the baby as bullets chewed through the concrete wall behind us. Sparks showered over us like lethal fireworks.
“Julian!” Claire sobbed, clinging to my shirt.
“Hold the baby tight!” I yelled over the deafening gunfire.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the smoke grenade I had grabbed from the estate earlier. I pulled the pin with my teeth and slammed it onto the floor. White chemical smoke billowed out instantly, blinding the room.
“Vanessa! Move!” I roared into the smoke.
Vanessa, groggily coming to on the floor, grabbed a dropped handgun and fired blindly into the haze, keeping the remaining mercenaries at bay.
I scooped Claire up in my left arm, keeping my right arm free with the pistol, and burst out through the rear loading bay door toward the dark docks outside.
Rain lashed at our faces as we ran down the wooden pier. Behind us, my mother’s voice echoed through the storm: “SEARCH THE DOCKS! DO NOT LET THEM REACH THE BOAT!”
At the end of the pier sat a sleek, black high-speed offshore interceptor vessel—a boat I had hidden months ago as a backup plan.
“Get aboard!” I yelled, pushing Claire and Vanessa onto the deck.
I jumped onto the helm, slamming the ignition. The dual twin-turbo V8 engines roared to life with a thunderous growl. I threw the throttle forward just as heavy gunfire began ripping through the wooden planks of the pier.
The boat surged forward, slicing through the ocean waves, tearing into the pitch-black sea.
May you like
Behind us, the lights of the city grew smaller. But as I looked at the radar screen on the dashboard, three high-speed red blips appeared, closing in fast on our tail.
My father’s private navy was already in pursuit.
