Chapter 15 - THE NIGHT I ALMOST LOST MY PRINCESS FOREVER"Don't go into that building alone, Nathan. That's exactly what Victor wants."
Detective Park's warning came as I stared at the photograph from my father's envelope.
It showed a bank authorization form.
Several account numbers had been circled in red.
One account belonged to a private trust established for me when I was twenty-five.
The Nathan Reed Legacy Trust.
I had known about it for years.
My father told me it contained proceeds from early investments and family property transactions.
I had never seriously questioned its origins.
Now I felt sick.
Millions of dollars that had helped secure my future might have come from money meant to rebuild other people's homes.
But there was no time to examine every transaction.
Grace was still missing.
And so was Leah.
I handed the envelope to Marisol.
"Preserve this with the rest of the documents."
She nodded.
"We'll investigate the transfers."
Then I turned toward Park.
"Tell me what I can do."
"Remain available. If Victor contacts you again, follow our instructions. We're preparing to secure the pumping station."
I swallowed.
"What about Grace?"
"We're going to do everything we can to bring her out safely."
I wanted a guarantee.
There wasn't one.
The next hour felt longer than any year of my life.
I sat in a police vehicle near the operations area while investigators coordinated their response.
The industrial waterfront stretched before us beneath a darkening sky.
Cargo cranes rose above rows of warehouses.
In the distance, river traffic moved slowly through the evening haze.
The old pumping station stood near a concrete drainage channel.
It had been built decades earlier to protect low-lying neighborhoods from flooding.
Now much of it was obsolete.
Victor's companies had acquired several nearby industrial parcels as part of the redevelopment project.
He had chosen the location because he believed no one would look there.
At 6:38 p.m., my phone rang.
Victor.
I answered under Park's direction.
"Where are you?" he demanded.
"Where you told me to be."
"Do you have the audit?"
"Yes."
He laughed.
"Good boy."
I gripped the phone.
"Let me speak to Grace."
"You'll see her when I have the documents."
"Put her on."
Victor sighed.
A moment later, I heard Grace.
"Nathan?"
"I'm here."
Her breathing was quick.
"Listen carefully."
"I'm listening."
"I don't want you to trade anything for me."
My chest tightened.
"Grace—"
"No. Listen."
She took a shaky breath.
"My mother spent her life believing people mattered more than money. Don't help him steal from those families again."
I closed my eyes.
"I won't."
"And Nathan?"
"Yes?"
There was a brief pause.
Then she whispered, "I'm not sorry I met you."
My throat closed.
"Grace, don't talk like that."
"I just wanted you to know."
Victor took the phone.
"Enough."
I fought to keep my voice steady.
"You're going to let her go."
Victor laughed.
"You still think this is a negotiation?"
Then the call ended.
I stared at the phone.
For a moment, I felt as though the world had stopped.
Park placed a hand on my shoulder.
"We're moving."
I remained behind the secured line as officers approached the pumping station.
I couldn't see everything that happened.
I could only hear fragments over the radio.
An entry team had reached the service corridor.
A second team was checking the rear loading area.
Then someone reported a strong odor of smoke.
My heart stopped.
"Smoke?"
Park pressed her radio.
"Confirm location."
A voice crackled through.
"Smoke coming from the eastern mechanical room. Possible deliberate ignition."
I thought of the warehouse fire.
Clara Ellis.
The locked door.
Victor was doing it again.
I gripped the edge of the vehicle door.
"Grace is in there."
Park was already directing additional units and requesting fire crews.
The next several minutes blurred together.
I heard alarms.
Then sirens.
Then a distant metallic crash.
Smoke began rising through a vent near the pumping station roof.
I whispered Grace's name.
Again.
And again.
A firefighter ran toward the building.
Another carried equipment through the service entrance.
An officer shouted that someone had been located in a lower utility room.
My heart pounded.
"Who?"
No one answered.
I could hear people moving quickly.
Then a radio message came through.
"Two adult females located. Both conscious. Moving to the west exit."
I staggered backward.
Two women.
Grace and Leah.
It had to be them.
Seconds later, firefighters emerged through the smoke.
One supported a woman with dark hair.
Another guided a second woman wrapped in a protective blanket.
I started running.
A deputy stopped me before I crossed into the restricted area.
"Sir, let the medics work."
I looked beyond him.
Grace.
She was alive.
Her face was streaked with soot.
Her blue cardigan was torn at the shoulder.
She was coughing.
But she was walking.
Leah followed with help from another responder.
I waited until the paramedics moved them to the treatment area.
Then I approached.
"Grace?"
She looked up.
For one terrifying second, she simply stared.
Then her eyes filled.
"Nathan."
I knelt beside her.
"You're alive."
She gave a weak smile.
"Apparently."
I almost laughed.
Instead, tears spilled down my face.
I hadn't cried like that since my father died.
Grace reached for my hand.
I held it carefully.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"For what?"
"For letting him get near you."
She shook her head.
"Nathan, this isn't your fault."
I swallowed.
"He wanted the audit."
"And he didn't get it."
I stared at her.
She looked exhausted.
But there was determination in her eyes.
"I kept telling him I didn't know where it was."
"What happened?"
"He put Leah and me in the old utility room. I heard him arguing with Garrick about the police."
She paused to cough.
"Then I smelled smoke."
I gripped her hand.
"How did you get out?"
"There was an emergency alarm panel near the door. I managed to reach it after one of the men left. It triggered the building alarms."
She looked toward Leah.
"We pushed a maintenance cart against the door when smoke started coming in. We kept calling for help."
Leah nodded weakly.
"Grace wouldn't let me give up."
I closed my eyes.
My heart ached.
Grace had been frightened.
She had been restrained.
She had been threatened by dangerous men.
But even then, she had been thinking about someone else's survival.
I turned toward Park as she approached.
"Did you get Victor?"
Her expression hardened.
"Not yet. We detained one of the men on site, but Cross and Shaw escaped through a service route before we secured the building."
I felt frustration rise.
"They got away?"
"For now."
She glanced toward the medical teams.
"But we recovered both victims alive. That's the priority."
I knew she was right.
Still, Victor was somewhere out there.
And he had already proved how far he would go to avoid accountability.
Later that evening, after Grace and Leah had been transported for medical evaluation, Marisol called.
"Nathan, I finished reviewing the account references from your father's envelope."
I sat in the hospital corridor.
"What did you find?"
"The Nathan Reed Legacy Trust received several transfers through companies associated with the relief fund."
My throat tightened.
"How much?"
"Originally, a little over three million dollars."
I stared at the wall.
"And now?"
"Some of the assets were invested. Depending on valuations, the current holdings traceable to those transfers could exceed eight million."
I couldn't speak.
Marisol continued.
"We need a forensic accountant to establish the exact amount and separate any legitimate assets. But Nathan, this is serious."
I looked through the hospital room window.
Grace was sitting beside Leah.
They were talking quietly.
Two women who had nearly died because they wanted the truth.
I thought of my childhood.
The expensive vacations.
The enormous Christmas parties.
The trust fund my father told me was a reward for hard work.
Then I thought of Rosa's story.
Plastic over the windows.
Rotting floors.
A father getting sick from mold.
I whispered, "The money wasn't ours."
Marisol remained silent.
I closed my eyes.
"Find out exactly how much was stolen. Every dollar."
"Nathan—"
"And help me return it."
A long pause followed.
Then Marisol said something that made my heart sink even deeper.
"Nathan, there's another problem."
"What?"
"The original transfer records contain a beneficiary acknowledgment."
I frowned.
"Whose acknowledgment?"
She hesitated.
"Yours."
I sat upright.
"That's impossible."
"I know you say you never authorized these transfers. We need to authenticate the document."
I could barely breathe.
May you like
Then she told me the worst part.
"Someone has already sent a copy to the press. By tomorrow morning, the whole country may believe you personally received stolen disaster-relief money."
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