Chapter 4 - THE APPRAISER’S CONFESSION
Gabriel didn't hesitate. He pulled a sleek, dark handgun from the back waistband of his trousers.
I grabbed Sophie and pulled her into the en-suite bathroom, holding her tight against my chest.
"Open the door, Gabriel," a woman’s voice called out from the hallway. It was calm, cultured, and chilling. "Isabella is an idiot. But she doesn't have the original documents. I do."
Gabriel unlocked the door and threw it open.
Beatrice Vance stood there. She was in her late fifties, wearing a sharp gray suit. She wasn't holding shears to attack us; she was holding them to cut the thick security wiring of the estate's alarm panel in the hallway.
"Put the gun away, Mr. DeLuca," Beatrice said dryly. "If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have knocked."
Gabriel didn't lower the weapon. "Give me one reason not to put a bullet in your knee."
"Because if you do, your daughter becomes a ward of the state by midnight."
Gabriel froze.
I stepped out of the bathroom, keeping Sophie behind me. "What are you talking about?"
Beatrice walked into the room uninvited, dropping the sheared alarm wires onto the floor. "Isabella filed an emergency guardianship transfer this morning. She forged a judge's signature, claiming Gabriel is unfit due to his... underworld affiliations. The police are already on their way with Child Protective Services."
"That's impossible," Gabriel snarled. "I have armies of lawyers."
"Lawyers take time. CPS takes children immediately," Beatrice countered. She opened her black leather folder. "Isabella cut me out of the deal. She got greedy. So, I’m offering you a trade."
"What do you want?" Gabriel demanded.
"Two million dollars in offshore bearer bonds, and a flight to Geneva tonight. In exchange, I give you the real will, the original medical logs clearing Margaret Brooks, and the recording of Isabella planning the entire fraud."
Gabriel stared at her. He was a man used to calling the shots, but right now, his daughter's life was on the line.
"How much time do we have?" he asked.
"Ten minutes," Beatrice said, checking a gold Cartier watch. "Maybe less."
Gabriel lowered the gun. He walked over to a heavy oak bookshelf, pulled a thick volume of Dante’s Inferno, and the shelf clicked open, revealing a hidden wall safe.
He began spinning the dial.
Is the bad lady taking me? Sophie signed frantically, tugging on my skirt.
No, I signed back, my hands shaking. Never.
Gabriel pulled out a thick stack of bonds and tossed them onto the bed. "Give me the files."
Beatrice smiled. She reached into her folder and handed him a sealed manila envelope. "Pleasure doing business with you."
She turned to leave.
But as she reached the door, Sophie suddenly let go of my skirt. She ran forward and grabbed Beatrice’s gray suit jacket, pulling hard.
"Sophie, no!" I yelled.
A piece of paper slipped from Beatrice’s pocket and fluttered to the floor.
It was a flight itinerary.
Gabriel picked it up. His eyes darkened into a violent, terrifying storm.
The ticket wasn't for Geneva. It was for a private charter to Mexico.
May you like
And there were two passenger names on it: Beatrice Vance and Sophie DeLuca.
Beatrice didn't come to make a deal. She came to take the child.
