Chapter 6 - The Ransom
The bitter November wind whipped Ivy’s wedding veil around her face like a shroud of frozen silk. Standing ten feet away near the edge of the rooftop helipad was a tall man in a tailored trench coat, his face obscured by the deep shadows of the industrial cowl. In his hand, a tablet screen glowed brightly, projecting the live video feed of little Lily sitting rigidly in a wooden chair, her dark sparkly dress stained with dust, her eyes wide with unadologetic terror.
"Don't take another step, Daniel," a voice rasped from beneath the cowl—a voice that sounded like grinding stones, distorted by a digital modulator. "One wrong move, and the girl goes into the river."
Ivy lunged forward with a mother's reckless desperation, but Daniel caught her arm, pulling her back firmly against his chest.
"Marcus," Daniel said, his voice cutting through the gale with chilling clarity. "Drop the voice modifier. We all know it's you."
The figure slowly lowered the cowl. The harsh amber emergency lights illuminated a face that haunted the Vanderbilt family history—sharp cheekbones, cold, dead eyes, and a jagged scar running from his left ear down to his collarbone. It was Marcus Vanderbilt, alive, breathing, and smiling a cruel, twisted smile.
"Surprise, little brother," Marcus laughed, his voice smooth and toxic. "Did you really think mother would let you inherit the crown while playing house with a criminal's daughter?"
"You embezzled forty million dollars and faked your own death to escape federal indictment, Marcus," Daniel stepped forward, his body coiled like a striking viper. "Returning to New York is a suicide mission."
"Not when I hold the ultimate leverage," Marcus countered, tapping the tablet screen where Lily began to cry out softly. "Here are the new rules, Daniel. You sign over your fifty-one percent voting shares of Vanderbilt Global Industries to me by sunrise, and you publicly announce that your marriage to Ivy was a fraud. Do that, and the girl returns unharmed."
Ivy’s breath hitched. She looked at Daniel, seeing the agonizing weight of the choice pressing down on his shoulders—his entire legacy, his fortune, everything he built independent of his toxic family, versus the life of an innocent little girl.
"Don't do it, Daniel," Ivy whispered, her voice laced with heartbreaking resignation. "My daughter... save yourself."
Daniel didn't look at her. He kept his eyes locked on Marcus, his expression unreadable as he slowly reached into his tuxedo jacket, pulling out a sleek leather folder stamped with gold corporate seals.
"The transfer documents are right here, Marcus," Daniel said evenly, walking toward him with slow, deliberate steps. "Take them. Let the girl go."
May you like
Marcus grinned greedily, lowering the tablet as he reached out his hand to grab the folder. But as his fingers brushed the leather, Daniel’s expression transformed from submissive to lethal, and a red laser dot suddenly appeared squarely on the center of Marcus's forehead.
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