Chapter 2: The Fortress Rolls In
Tyler scoffed, crossing his arms over his tailored white shirt. "Your dad? The retired mechanic in Ohio? What's he going to do, tow your suitcase with a rusted pickup truck?"
Chloe giggled, wrapping her arm tighter around Tyler’s waist. "Call the whole trailer park, honey! Let them see how real aristocracy lives!"
They had ninety seconds of smug arrogance left.
Down the long, manicured avenue of the gated estate, a deep, rhythmic rumble shook the pavement. It wasn't the sputter of an old engine—it was the synchronized roar of high-performance V8 motors.
Two matte-black Mercedes-Benz G-Wagons crested the hill, flanking a bulletproof Lexus LX 600 limousine bearing private diplomatic plates. The iron security gates at the property’s entrance didn't even have time to swing open; the security guards, recognizing the crest on the lead vehicle, hit the emergency bypass immediately.
Tyler’s smirk stiffened. "What the hell is that?"
The convoy screeched to a halt across the courtyard, effectively sealing the exit. Heavy doors swung open in unison. Eight broad-shouldered men in bespoke Italian suits stepped onto the pavement, forming a perimeter.
From the rear door of the limousine stepped a silver-haired titan with piercing blue eyes and an aura of absolute command: Arthur Vance. Behind him walked Jonathan Sterling, the most feared corporate litigation attorney on Wall Street.
"Elena, sweetheart," my father’s deep voice cut through the damp air. He bypassed Tyler and Chloe as if they were invisible, opening his arms to me. "Daddy is here."
May you like
I fell into his embrace, letting the warmth of his wool coat shield me from the storm.
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