Chapter 7 - The Midnight Evacuation Order
Ryan didn't hesitate.
He lunged across the corner of the table, seizing Michael by the lapels of his suit jacket.
The heavy dining chair behind Michael toppled over with a thunderous crash against the hardwood floor.
"You touch my family again, and I will tear your throat out with my bare hands," Ryan snarled, his face inches from his brother's.
Uncle Julian stood up quickly, raising a hand in warning.
"Ryan, think about where you are," Julian said coldly.
"There are four private security contractors sitting in the black SUV outside your gates right now."
"They carry state certifications and non-disclosure agreements."
"If Michael gives the order, they will enter this house to prevent an assault."
"They will secure Mia before you can even take an elevator to the ground floor."
Ryan held Michael for three more agonizing seconds, feeling his brother's rapid pulse beneath the collar of his shirt.
Slowly, deliberately, Ryan released his grip and stepped back.
Michael straightened his tie with chilled precision, smoothing down the lapels of his jacket as though brushing off dust.
"You always were too emotional to lead, Ryan," Michael said quietly.
"That's why Father made me the primary executor."
"Tomorrow morning at nine, Marcus Vance will receive a formal cease-and-desist letter from the firm's legal team."
"You will sign the five-year trust extension before noon tomorrow."
"If you refuse, Julian will file an emergency psychological evaluation report regarding your mental stability following the Singapore accident."
"We will claim you have experienced a traumatic relapse."
"We will place Emily in a private sanitarium for nervous collapse."
"And Mia?"
"Mia will be relocated tonight to our private compound in Maine until the probate court settles the estate in twenty-four months."
"You won't even know which coordinate to look for on a map."
Michael turned on his heel toward the foyer.
"Julian, call the team outside."
"Tell them to bring the transport cases."
"We're moving the secondary child accommodation tonight."
"No!" Emily shrieked, throwing herself toward Michael.
Julian caught her by the wrists with surprising strength, twisting her away from the door.
"Calm yourself, Emily," Julian hissed.
"You knew the terms."
Ryan didn't waste another second arguing.
He sprinted out of the dining room, through the service hallway, and up the back servant's staircase taking three steps at a time.
He knew the floor plan of this historic house better than anyone on earth.
Behind the laundry room on the second floor was a utility passage that connected directly to the master suite's structural wall.
Ryan burst into the master bedroom.
The cedar closet door was standing wide open, just as he had left it.
Down in the stairwell, the faint pink glow of the nightlight filtered upward.
Ryan bounded down the seven carpeted stairs and pushed open the steel-core door.
Mia was still sitting on the carpet, wearing her noise-canceling headphones, holding her stuffed rabbit.
When she saw Ryan's face, she took off the headphones, her hazel eyes wide with sudden alarm.
"Daddy?" she asked, sensing the frantic energy vibrating through him.
"Is it time to go to the garden?"
Ryan knelt down and wrapped his arms around the fragile, trembling body of his daughter.
She smelled of baby soap and fresh cotton.
The reality of her warmth—of her life—swept through him with violent clarity.
"Yes, Mia," Ryan whispered, pulling a warm wool blanket around her small frame.
"It's time to leave the garden."
"We are never coming back down here again."
He scooped her up in his left arm, holding her tight against his chest.
He grabbed her worn backpack containing her favorite books and stepped back onto the stairs.
As his head reached the top of the stairwell, the bedroom door swung open.
Standing in the doorway was not Michael.
It was Viktor—Michael’s head of corporate security—a broad-shouldered former intelligence officer wearing an earpiece and a heavy tactical coat.
Viktor looked at Ryan holding the five-year-old child in his arms.
"Mr. Sterling," Viktor said calmly, his hand resting casually inside his open jacket.
"Mr. Michael Sterling instructed me to relieve you of the asset."
"Asset?" Ryan’s voice dropped into a register of icy, murderous resolve.
May you like
"This is my daughter, Viktor."
"You take one step toward this closet, and you will not walk out of this estate alive."
