Chapter 16 - The Geneva Trap
The ten-hour flight across the Atlantic was a nightmare frozen in time. The second the jet doors closed, Eleanor’s private doctor injected the golden serum into James’s tiny thigh. Within an hour, the blue spots faded, his fever broke, and his quiet, steady breathing returned. I sat in the private state room, holding James close to my heart, crying tears of sheer relief, refusing to let anyone touch him.
At dawn, the Gulfstream touched down on a private runway in Geneva, Switzerland.
We were escorted under heavy armed guard to the Chateau de Rowan—a massive, thousand-year-old stone fortress perched high on the snow-covered cliffs above Lake Geneva. It was a place of terrifying opulence, filled with centuries of art, cold marble halls, and armed mercenaries wearing the Rowan coat of arms.
In the central library, a long mahogany table had been prepared. Seated around it were six elderly men in dark robes—the Council of the Matriarch Trust. In the center of the table lay the custody documents that would strip Declan and me of every legal right to James Noah forever.
"Sign the documents, Declan," Eleanor commanded, standing beside the lead trustee. "And you will be allowed to remain as chief operating officer of our European interests. Refuse, and you will be cast out with nothing, while James remains here as a ward of the state."
Declan stepped up to the table. He picked up the heavy gold fountain pen.
"Declan, no!" I called out from the doorway, guarded by two heavy guards. "We'll find another way!"
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Declan turned to me. His face was pale, his green eyes swimming with profound grief. "There is no other way, Clara. I failed to protect you in Seattle. I won't let him die."
He lowered the pen to the paper. But just as the ink touched the parchment, the massive oak doors of the library were blown inward with a deafening explosion!
