Chapter 2 - The Panic in the Glass TowerThe top floor of the Weston Financial Tower hummed with cold, sterile efficiency.
From fifty floors above the frozen Mississippi River, Spencer Weston could see the entire skyline of Saint Paul draped in winter’s icy grip. But tonight, the panoramic view brought no comfort. Spencer sat at his sleek, black-glass executive desk, his fingers clenched so tightly around his smartphone that his knuckles were stark white.
On the screen, a six-second video looped endlessly.
A ragged girl in a thin, worn shirt taking his four-year-old son, Wyatt, by the hand and leading him away into the blinding snow.
“Mr. Weston,” his head of security, Marcus Cole, said grimly, stepping into the office with a heavy tablet. “The police have secured the footage from Halverson’s grocery. The viral post on social media has already been picked up by local news channels. They are calling it a suspected child abduction.”
Spencer stood up so fast his leather chair crashed backward against the wall. His dark eyes flashed with a terrifying, protective fury that had built his billion-dollar empire from the ground up.
“Abduction?!” Spencer’s voice echoed like thunder across the quiet office. “Look at the boy’s jacket, Marcus! That’s my gray cashmere-lined hoodie he’s wearing—no, wait. That’s not his coat. That’s her hoodie. She gave it to him because he was freezing!”
Marcus frowned, leaning closer to the video. “Sir, the public doesn't see it that way. The caption on social media claims a vagrant child lured him away from the bus stop. My team is triangulating cell phone pings from the area. We have a lead on where they went.”
“Where?” Spencer demanded, grabbing his custom wool overcoat from the back of his chair.
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“Saint Bridget’s church basement,” Marcus replied, unholstering his radio. “Three blocks east. Local police are already dispatching units. But Mr. Weston... we should let the authorities handle it.”
“The authorities didn't leave my son freezing at a bus stop because his nanny got stuck in traffic,” Spencer snarled, marching toward the private elevator. “Get the car. We’re going.”
