Chapter 4 - The Escape Plan“Mom, I want to go home,” Sophie whimpered, tugging frantically at my sleeve. Her small fingers were ice-cold, her breathing turning shallow as the panic of the adults closed in around her like closing walls.
I scooped her up into my arms, pressing her face into my shoulder so she couldn't see the vicious, desperate look on Julian Vance’s face.
“We are leaving,” I told Richard, my voice shaking with fury and adrenaline. “Right now. If you or your attack dog come within a mile of my daughter again, I will go to the FBI, the press, every news outlet in the country. I don't care about your empire.”
Richard didn't try to block my path. Instead, he reached out and grabbed Julian’s arm with a grip so tight I heard the fabric of the lawyer’s suit groan.
“You stay here,” Richard ordered Julian, his voice deadly quiet. “If you try to call the board, if you try to initiate asset freezing, or if you touch a single hair on that child’s head, I will strip you of your bar license, your wealth, and your freedom before dawn.”
“Richard, you’re making a catastrophic mistake!” Julian hissed, panic finally breaking through his polished exterior. “The board will vote you out! They’ll claim you’re mentally unfit, just like your sister! They’ll use the family mental health clause to seize control of Vale Holdings!”
“Let them try,” Richard muttered.
He turned to me, his eyes pleading. “Hannah, please. Don't run outside. Julian’s security detail is already stationed at every exit. They’ve been monitoring my communications. If you walk out those front doors unprotected, they will take Sophie from you to secure the trust litigation.”
The world tilted again. Security detail? Monitoring? We were trapped in a multi-million-dollar glass cage, and the sharks were circling.
“Follow me,” Richard said, spinning on his heel toward the private elevator bank reserved for executive board members. “We use the sub-level freight tunnel. My armored car is waiting in the secure bay.”
“I don't trust you,” I spat back, shifting Sophie’s weight in my arms.
“You don't have to trust me,” Richard replied, sliding his platinum biometric keycard into the elevator slot. The heavy steel doors slid open with a silent, ominous hiss. “You just have to trust that I hate my father’s legacy more than you do.”
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We stepped inside. Before the doors closed, I saw Julian Vance pull out his phone, his thumb flying across the screen as he dialed a number with frantic speed.
They are locked in an elevator descending into the dark underbelly of the hospital, but Julian has just sounded the alarm. Who is on the other end of his call?
