Chapter 2: Shadows in the Penthouse
Gabriel didn't wait for the security team to open the heavy mahogany doors of his penthouse; he kicked them inward, the deadbolt splintering against the frame.
The silence of the apartment was suffocating. Expansive floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the glittering city skyline, a empire of glass and concrete that Gabriel had clawed from nothing. Yet, in the nursery down the eastern corridor, the world was reduced to shadows and the sweet, lingering scent of baby powder mixed with ozone.
Gabriel strode into the nursery, flicking on the overhead light. The room was pristine: white wainscoting, an ivory rocking chair, and a customized crib crafted from solid oak. On the changing table sat the nebulizer machine, its small plastic cup empty, resting beside three unopened saline vials.
"Marcus," Gabriel commanded without turning around.
From the hallway shadows, his right-hand man stepped into the light. Marcus wore a dark tailored suit, his broad shoulders tense, a secure tablet clutched in his leather-gloved hands.
"The nurse is gone, Boss," Marcus reported in a low, even tone. "Her car was found abandoned at the commuter rail station forty minutes ago. Her phone was dumped in a dumpster behind the station diner. She bought a ticket south with cash."
"Who paid her?" Gabriel asked, turning slowly. His dark hair was disheveled, falling across eyes that burned with cold, lethal calculation.
"Her offshore account saw a wire transfer of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars at four this afternoon," Marcus said, holding up the tablet. "The routing originated from an offshore shell registered in Grand Cayman. But the secondary signature on the clearance protocol... it bounced through Vance Holdings."
A terrible, familiar chill gripped Gabriel’s chest.
Vance Holdings.
His late wife’s family. The aristocratic dynasts who had disowned their daughter the day she chose a street-born entrepreneur with tattoos and a shadowy past over their curated blue-blood suitors. When Sophia died in childbirth four months ago, the Vances had tried to seize Caleb through an army of corporate attorneys, claiming Gabriel was an unfit, dangerous guardian. They had failed in family court.
"They couldn't win him with judges," Gabriel whispered, the realization settling like venom into his veins. "So they decided nobody would have him."
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"We can mobilize the crew, Boss," Marcus said, his jaw setting. "We have the addresses of every Vance executive within three counties. We can take them apart piece by piece."
"No," Gabriel answered, looking down at the small stuffed bear resting inside the empty crib. "If I become what they say I am, I lose him even if he survives tonight. Pack the nebulizer, the ampoules, and the trash bin. We need chain of custody. Emma needs to know the exact compound."
