Chapter 4

We reached Crescent Lane at 9:15 a. m.

The street was quiet. Suburban. White picket fences and manicured lawns. The kind of place where nothing bad ever happened.

Marcus parked a block away. He killed the engine.

"House is 1428," he said quietly.

"Two adults inside. A man and a woman. They have kept the boy here for three years."

"And Leo?"

"He is there. I saw a little boy at the front window this morning."

My heart hammered against my ribs. I reached for the door handle.

"Mrs. Vanguard," Marcus said, his voice tight.

"Julian's car just turned onto the street."

I looked in the rearview mirror. A black SUV. Moving fast.

"He knows," I whispered.

"We need to leave. Now."

"No."

I opened the door.

"Call the police. Tell them there's a kidnapping in progress. Do it now."

I stepped out of the car and walked toward the house. The front door opened. A woman appeared with a little boy on her hip, one of his arms around her neck. She saw me. Her face went pale.

"Who are you?" she stammered.

"That's my son," I said. My voice didn't shake. My hands did.

"Let him come to me."

The black SUV screeched to a stop at the curb. Julian jumped out. He looked deranged. His suit was wrinkled. His hair was a mess. He hadn't slept either.

"Elena!" he roared.

"Stop!"

I didn't turn around. I kept my eyes on the woman.

"Give me my son."

"Don't you dare!"

Julian sprinted up the driveway. Two of his bodyguards followed.

"She's unstable! She's a danger to the child!"

The woman looked between us, terrified. She held the boy tighter. He began to cry.

"Julian," I said, finally turning to face him.

"It's over. The police are on their way. The Times has the story. Your board has the recording."

"You think I care about the board?" He laughed. It was a broken, ugly sound.

"I have enough money to bury this. I have enough money to bury you."

He reached into his jacket. I expected a gun. Instead, he pulled out a small USB drive.

"You want the truth?"

Julian held it up.

"It's all here. Every transaction. Every DNA test. Every forged signature. One little drive."

He pulled out a lighter.

"Don't," I warned.

"Give me the boy, Elena. Give me the boy, and I'll let you walk away. You can disappear. You can live."

"You're insane."

"I'm practical."

He flicked the lighter. The flame danced.

"You have three seconds. One."

The woman holding my son started crying.

"Two."

Marcus stepped out of the car. He had a gun drawn.

"Drop the lighter, Mr. Vanguard."

Julian spun. He grabbed the woman. He pressed the burning lighter to her arm. She screamed, and Leo cried for her to put him down.

"Let her go!" I shouted.

"Three," Julian said.

He threw the USB drive onto the lawn. He dropped the lighter. The drive caught fire.

I didn't look at it. I didn't care.

I lunged for the woman. She loosened her grip as she recoiled from the flame, and I took Leo into my arms. He kicked in panic, but I turned my back to Julian and shielded him with my body.

Julian's bodyguards rushed Marcus. A gun went off. Someone screamed.

Julian grabbed my arm. His fingers dug into my skin.

"You think you've won?"

"Get off me!"

A police siren wailed in the distance. Red and blue lights flooded the street. Two patrol cars. Then three. Then an unmarked SUV.

Julian let go. He stumbled backward. He looked at the burning USB drive on the lawn. He looked at the police officers rushing up the driveway. He looked at me.

And then he ran. He made it ten feet before Marcus tackled him to the ground.

I didn't watch. I turned my back on him. I looked down at the frightened three-year-old in my arms. My son. He had my eyes. He had my mother's nose. He was perfect.

"I've got you," I whispered.

"I've got you."

A tall woman in a dark coat stepped out of the unmarked SUV. She flashed a badge.

"Elena Vanguard?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I'm Detective Harris. We received a tip about a kidnapping and a fraud scheme. Is this your son?"

"Yes."

"We'll need a DNA test to confirm custody."

"I have the results," I said. Marcus had the original reports from Julian's safe in the car.

The detective nodded. She looked at Julian, pinned to the ground by Marcus, screaming about lawyers and money and revenge.

"We're going to need you to come down to the station," Harris said.

"I'll be there," I said.

"Just let me hold my son first."

I climbed into the sedan and held my son against my chest. For the first time since his birth, I let myself cry.

My phone buzzed. A text from my attorney.

"The Times published the story. Julian's lawyers are already preparing an emergency custody claim, and the family office is questioning your voting shares. Keep Leo close."

I looked out the window. Morning traffic rolled past while Julian sat in the back of a police car, his head bowed.

I looked down at my son. He had stopped crying. He was looking up at me, unsure who I was.

"What's his name?" the woman who had cared for him asked from the doorway. She was crying too.

I looked at her. I wanted to hate her. But she was just another victim of Julian's games.

"His name is Leo," I said.

"I chose it for the son I gave birth to. And he's coming home."

But as the car pulled away, a dark thought crept in.

Julian had a lot of money. A lot of friends. A lot of enemies.

He would post bail by noon. And he wouldn't stop until he destroyed me.

I looked at my son, then out the window at the city skyline.

"Let him try," I whispered. I looked again at Sarah's warning: an emergency custody claim and a challenge to my father's voting shares. Leo was in my arms, but Julian still sat in my father's chair.