Chapter 9 - The Desperate Ambush
The mainland ferry dock at Point Judith was grey, windy, and reeked of diesel fumes and saltwater.
It was a far cry from the private helicopter pads Ethan Calloway was accustomed to using.
Ethan stood on the damp wooden planks, his hair disheveled by the coastal wind, his expensive linen shirt creased and stained with sea spray.
His designer loafers were scuffed against the salt-crusted wood.
Around him, working-class commuters and tourists in windbreakers pulled their rolling luggage past him without a second glance.
Behind him sat Vanessa, huddled on an overturned plastic crate, her face buried in her hands.
She was still wearing the same red silk evening dress from two nights ago, now filthy and ripped along the hemline.
Her high heels were broken, forcing her to walk barefoot across the cold gravel.
“Ethan, my phone has no service,” Vanessa groaned, looking up with red, swollen eyes.
“I tried to call my sister in Chicago, but the phone says the account has been disconnected by the corporate administrator.”
Ethan didn’t even turn to look at her.
His jaw was locked tight, his bloodshot eyes staring down the long asphalt road leading to the private terminal.
“Shut up, Vanessa,” Ethan muttered under his breath.
“Just shut your mouth.”
“Don’t tell me to shut up!” Vanessa snapped, rising from the crate with wild, manic energy.
“I lost my job! I lost my apartment! My face is all over Twitter right now as the woman who ruined Calloway Industries!”
“The news alerts are calling me an embezzler!”
“Who do you think authorized those payments, Vanessa?” Ethan shouted, turning on her with clenched fists.
“You spent that money! You picked out the Cartier bracelets! You booked the five-star suites!”
“Because you told me you owned the company!” Vanessa shrieked back, oblivious to the commuters staring at them.
“You told me your wife was an idiot who couldn't read a financial spreadsheet!”
“You lied to me, Ethan! You are nothing! You don't have a dime to your name!”
Before Ethan could retaliate, a low, mechanical rumble echoed across the private airfield a quarter-mile down the coast.
A sleek, matte-black Gulfstream G650 private jet was taxiing smoothly along the private runway.
Emblazoned on the tail of the aircraft was the interlocking crest of Pierce Global and the Sterling family trust.
Ethan’s breath caught in his throat.
Grace was on that plane.
She was preparing to take off for Boston, returning in absolute triumph while he was stranded on a ferry dock like a common vagrant.
“No,” Ethan whispered to himself, madness flashing behind his eyes.
“She cannot just walk away like this.”
“She is carrying my son.”
“The law gives me rights to my child!”
Abandoning his luggage on the wooden dock, Ethan sprinted toward the perimeter road separating the public ferry terminal from the private aviation gate.
“Ethan! Where are you going?” Vanessa screamed from the dock.
Ethan didn’t look back.
He ran blindly down the asphalt, his heart hammering against his ribs, his breath tearing through his throat.
He reached the security gate of the private executive airfield just as the Gulfstream came to a stop near the passenger loading stairs.
Two armed private security guards in black tactical gear immediately stepped forward to block the pedestrian gate.
“Halt, sir,” the first guard commanded, raising an open palm.
“This is private tarmac property.”
“Let me through!” Ethan roared, slamming his body against the reinforced chain-link gate.
“That is my wife on that plane!”
“Grace! Grace, look at me!”
At the top of the aircraft boarding stairs, Grace paused.
She was wrapped in her cream coat, her hand resting protectively over her belly.
Beside her stood Declan Pierce, towering and immovable.
Grace turned slowly, her clear eyes looking across the tarmac toward the perimeter fence where Ethan was thrashing against the metal.
Declan leaned down and murmured something to the security commander standing near the foot of the stairs.
The commander nodded, spoke into his radio lapel, and stepped toward the gate.
The security gate clicked open.
Ethan surged through the opening, stumbling onto the tarmac, panting like a cornered animal.
“Grace!” Ethan shouted, jogging toward the base of the stairs before four security officers formed an impenetrable human wall in front of him.
“Ethan,” Grace spoke from the top platform, her voice perfectly clear against the whine of the jet engines.
“Step away from the aircraft.”
Ethan looked up at her, tears of humiliation and rage streaming down his flushed face.
“Grace, you can take the company!” Ethan pleaded, falling to his knees on the concrete runway.
“You can take the stock! You can take the house in Beacon Hill!”
“Just let me see the baby when he is born!”
“He is a Calloway! He carries my blood!”
“You cannot erase me from his life!”
Grace looked down at the man who had vowed to protect and cherish her six years ago.
There was no anger left in her eyes.
Only the profound, unshakeable coldness of a mother who had witnessed absolute betrayal.
“A father protects his family, Ethan,” Grace said, her voice carrying over the roar of the idling turbines.
“A father does not squander his family’s fortune on cheap thrills and illicit hotel rooms.”
“You forfeited your right to be a father the night you walked away from that hospital room.”
Grace turned away from the railing and stepped through the open cabin door of the private jet.
Declan Pierce remained at the top of the stairs for three more seconds.
He looked down at Ethan, kneeling on the cold tarmac with his hands begging in the air.
“Your custody petition will be dismissed under the Massachusetts domestic abandonment statutes,” Declan said with ruthless finality.
“If you ever come within five hundred yards of Grace or her child again,”
“The Department of Justice will unseal the indictment on your offshore accounts within ten minutes.”
Declan stepped inside the cabin.
The heavy jet door pulled upward and sealed shut with an airtight hiss.
May you like
Within ninety seconds, the Gulfstream turned toward the main runway and accelerated into the grey morning sky.
Ethan remained on his knees, staring upward as the jet vanished through the coastal clouds, leaving him in the dirt.
