Chapter 7 - Sirens in the NightThe wail of police sirens cut through the quiet suburban night, growing louder and sharper by the second until the flashing red and blue lights painted the walls of my grand hallway in violent crimson strokes.
Downstairs, heavy boots thudded against the marble foyer as local law enforcement, accompanied by state troopers and child protective services, flooded into the house.
Kate’s face finally lost all color. The bravado evaporated, replaced by genuine, unadulterated panic as two uniformed officers marched up the grand staircase, their heavy footsteps echoing with finality.
"Kate Morrison?" the lead officer asked, his hand resting on his utility belt as he stepped onto the third-floor landing.
"This is a mistake! Daniel is lying! He's crazy!" Kate shrieked, backing away against the wall as the officer stepped forward and snapped a pair of cold steel handcuffs around her wrists. "You can't do this to me! I'm family!"
"You have the right to remain silent," the officer recited mechanically, hauling her forward past me without an ounce of sympathy.
As she was dragged past my doorway, she turned her head, fixing me with a venomous glare that could have melted glass. "You think you've won, Daniel? Marcus is already at the office. By sunrise, your company is gone, and your kids will be wards of the state!"
"Take her away," I said quietly, not even blinking.
The officers bundled her down the stairs, her muffled screams fading into the distance as the heavy front door slammed shut behind them.
For a long moment, the third-floor hallway was dead silent.
Julian Vance stepped up beside me, slipping his phone back into his breast pocket. "The federal marshals are already en route to Marcus Sterling’s residence in Seattle. By the time he wakes up, his bank accounts will be frozen and his passport flagged."
"Good," I said, rubbing the back of my neck where the chronic, phantom tension of the last fourteen months suddenly felt lighter, as if a heavy anchor had finally been cut loose.
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"What about the kids?" Julian asked, his voice softening. "Child Protective Services is downstairs. They need to do a formal intake, medical evaluations, and statement collection."
"I’ll handle it," I said. "They aren't going anywhere except into my arms."
