Chapter 3 - The Shadow of the Vance Legacy
By 2:00 PM, my penthouse apartment on Park Avenue was no longer a minimalist bachelor pad.
Claire had dispatched a team of high-end personal shoppers who had transformed one of the guest suites into a children's bedroom in less than three hours. Twin wooden beds made of solid oak, soft blue linen sheets, plush stuffed bears, and shelves lined with picture books now occupied the room where I used to store unused designer luggage.
Liam and Lucas walked into the room cautiously. Lucas immediately crawled under the duvet of the left bed, pulling his red hoodie hood over his head, while Liam stood by the window, staring down at the busy Manhattan traffic seventy stories below.
"You don't have to stay by the window, Liam," I said, standing near the doorway.
"I like to see who is coming," Liam said without turning around. "Mommy said danger usually comes from below."
Every sentence that came out of their tiny mouths ripped through my conscience like a serrated blade. While I was living in luxury, drinking fifty-year-old scotch and closing corporate takeovers, Emma had been raising my sons in fear, hiding from shadowed men in the night.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Marcus.
"Speak," I answered, walking out onto the private terrace.
"Arthur Vance just called an emergency meeting of the Vance Logistics board for five o'clock today," Marcus reported over the encrypted line. "He's attempting to execute an emergency buyout clause to sell forty percent of Vance Logistics shares to Blackwood Holdings. If he completes that sale, he secures absolute voting control over the entire Vance estate."
"Why the rush?" I asked, looking out over Central Park.
"Because Emma Vance held thirty percent of those voting shares," Marcus explained. "Her mother left them to her in a private trust when she passed away. According to the trust agreement, if Emma dies or is declared legally missing without named heirs, her shares automatically revert to Arthur. But if she has legitimate heirs..."
"The shares belong to Liam and Lucas," I finished, my eyes narrowing.
"Bingo," Marcus said. "Arthur Vance didn't just burn her cottage down to silence her. He was looking for the original trust documents and her children. If he finds out the boys are with you, he’ll know his entire empire is compromised."
"He won't find out from me," I said coldly. "He'll find out when I crush him in front of his own board."
"Jason, be careful," Marcus warned. "Arthur Vance has deep ties to organized crime groups in New Jersey. He uses them for clean-up work. That lion ring Liam mentioned? That belongs to Richard Vance—Arthur’s youngest brother and head of security for Vance Logistics. He's a psychopath with three dismissed assault charges."
"Let him try," I whispered. "Prepare the helicopter. I'm going to the Vance Logistics headquarters in Queens."
I walked back into the penthouse living room. I hired two former Secret Service agents—women named Sarah and Rachel—to guard the penthouse door, giving them strict instructions that no one entered or left without my explicit authorization.
Before leaving, I knelt beside Liam, who was quietly drawing with crayons at the dining table.
"I have to go out for a little while," I told him, keeping my hands on my knees. "Sarah and Rachel are here to keep you safe. No bad men can get in here."
Liam looked at me, his crayon hovering over the paper. "Are you going to find Mommy?"
The raw hope in his small voice made my throat tighten. I reached out, hesitantly placing my hand on his head, feeling his soft blond hair beneath my palm.
"I will find her, Liam," I promised, making a vow that I knew would cost me everything I owned if necessary. "I swear to you on my life."
Liam stared at me for a long moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, bent paperclip. He pushed it into my hand.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Mommy says when you're scared, you hold something hard so you remember you're strong," Liam murmured softly. "Take it."
I closed my fingers over the tiny piece of wire, feeling its sharp edges dig into my skin.
May you like
"Thank you, Liam," I whispered.
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the back of my armored Maybach, flanked by two security SUVs, speeding through the Midtown Tunnel toward Queens. In my pocket, the paperclip felt heavier than any gold watch I had ever worn.
