The silence that fell over the Lincoln Elementary gymnasium was absolute, thick enough to muffle the hum of the old fluorescent lights. Alexander Reeves, a man whose face usually graced the covers of Forbes and The Wall Street Journal, remained on one knee on the scuffed wooden floor.

The revelation of Victoria’s financial ties to Julian’s kidnapping should have ended the battle. But Victoria Sterling was not a woman who accepted defeat.

As the bailiffs moved in to detain her pending federal warrants, a sudden, deafening fire alarm blared through the courthouse. Red emergency lights began to flash, and the overhead sprinklers activated, drenching the courtroom in a sudden deluge of water.

In the ensuing panic and blinding mist, the crowd rushed for the exits.

“Clara! Hold my hand!” Alexander yelled, reaching out through the chaos.

But a sudden surge of fleeing onlookers pushed him back. In the confusion, a hand wearing a thick leather glove clamped over Clara’s mouth, muffling her scream.

Before anyone could realize what was happening, Clara was dragged through a rear service exit and into the rainy alleyway behind the courthouse.

Victoria, her hair soaked and her eyes wild with mania, threw Clara into the back of a waiting delivery van. “Drive! Drive!” she screamed at her driver.

As the van sped away into the Manhattan traffic, Victoria grabbed Clara by the shoulders, shaking her. “You ruined everything! You and your pathetic uncle! If I can't have the Reeves fortune, no one will. We are leaving the country, Clara. And if Alexander tries to follow us, I’ll make sure he gets you back in pieces!”

Clara, though terrified, remembered the words Miss Ellen had told her before the dance: “You do not need anyone to dance with in order to enjoy music. You are stronger than you think.”

Clara looked at the door handle of the moving van. She looked at Victoria’s distraction as she screamed into her phone at her accomplices.

With a burst of courage she didn't know she possessed, Clara reached over and grabbed Victoria’s phone, throwing it hard against the metal floor of the van, shattering the screen.

“You bad lady!” Clara screamed. “My uncle will find us!”

Victoria roared in anger, raising her hand to strike Clara—

Suddenly, a massive black SUV rammed the side of the delivery van.

The van spun out of control, slamming into a concrete barrier on the West Side Highway. The impact deployed the airbags, filling the cabin with white dust.

Clara, bruised but protected by the reinforced rear cabin, crawled out of the shattered back doors of the van.

Rain poured down on her, washing away the dust. She looked up to see Alexander’s Maybach slide to a halt just feet away.

Alexander leaped out of the vehicle, ignoring the pouring rain and the danger of the smoking van. He sprinted toward her, catching her in his arms and lifting her off the wet asphalt.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion as he held her tight against his chest. “I’ve got you, Clara. It's over.”

Behind them, Victoria crawled out of the driver’s side of the wrecked van, coughing and bleeding from a cut on her forehead. She looked up to see a dozen police cruisers blockading the highway, their red and blue lights reflecting off the wet pavement.