Chapter 7 - The Empty Crib
Julian sprinted down the hallway, his dress shoes pounding against the hardwood floor with a rhythmic, urgent fury. The black tuxedo jacket flared behind him, and the white rose on his lapel was now crushed and torn, its petals scattering in his wake like drops of blood. Martha was right behind him, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she chased him toward the nursery wing.
"Mr. Vance! Wait! The security system override—she must have used the master code!" Martha cried out, her voice cracking with terror.
Julian didn't answer. He threw his weight against the nursery door, bursting into the room. The space was eerily quiet. The sheer white curtains billowed softly in the morning breeze blowing through the open window. Julian rushed to the mahogany crib, his heart hammering against his ribs in a way it hadn't in a decade.
The crib was empty.
The bright yellow blanket lay crumpled on the mattress, still warm to the touch, but the newborn baby was gone. On the changing table, the nursery monitor screen flickered with static before displaying a flashing battery warning icon, indicating it had been intentionally unplugged from the wall.
Julian gripped the edge of the changing table so hard his knuckles turned stark white. He closed his eyes for a single second, drawing on every ounce of his legendary self-control to keep from shattering completely. When he opened them, his gaze was lethal.
Martha stumbled into the room, gasping for air, and clutched the doorframe as her eyes fell upon the empty crib. She let out a choked sob, falling to her knees on the rug.
"She took her... she took the baby," Martha whispered, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "How could a mother do that? Use her own flesh and blood as a shield?"
Julian pulled his smartphone from his pocket. The screen was still flashing red, but a localized Bluetooth tracker signal was pinging faintly—a backup chip he had secretly sewn into the lining of the yellow blanket just forty-eight hours ago, anticipating every possible betrayal.
"She didn't take the baby to raise her, Martha," Julian said, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly calm register. "She took her to use as leverage for the Swiss bank accounts. Without the child's biometric signature on the trust documents, those nine figures remain locked in my name forever."
Julian tapped his screen, syncing the hidden Bluetooth beacon to his local mapping software. A pulsing blue dot appeared on the map, moving rapidly away from the estate toward the private helipad tucked behind the northern ridge of the property.
"The helipad," Julian muttered, spinning on his heel.
Martha looked up, wiping her tears with the cuff of her black dress. "Mr. Vance, the helipad is restricted airspace! If she gets into the air—"
"She won't," Julian interrupted, his eyes fixed on the door. He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a heavy, matte-black override transmitter—the master kill-switch for every automated vehicle and aircraft registered to the Vance corporate fleet. "Because I locked down the flight control transponders ten minutes before the wedding even started."
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Julian strode out of the nursery, leaving Martha kneeling by the empty crib as he tracked his wife across the sprawling, burning empire he had built.
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