Chapter 5 - The Trap Snaps
Time seemed to stop completely.
Chloe trotted happily down the carpeted runner toward me, her small light-up sneakers clicking softly against the floor. She was completely oblivious to the armed guards, the heavy smell of medicine, or the sudden, suffocating atmosphere that had gripped the hallway.
"Look, Mommy," Chloe said, holding up her coloring book proudly. "I finished the horse! Miss Sarah said it looks like a magical one."
I didn't answer. I couldn't breathe.
I stepped forward instantly, putting my body between Chloe and the rest of the hallway, pulling her against my coat, covering her face against my hip.
"Natasha," Samuel’s voice came from behind me.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't angry. It was terrifyingly calm.
I turned slowly.
Samuel had walked up behind us. He wasn't looking at me anymore. His dark, cold eyes were locked onto the back of Chloe’s head, tracing the dark brown curls, down to her small yellow overalls, down to her bright blue eyes that were peeking out from behind my wool sleeve.
"Whose child is this?" Samuel asked.
"She’s mine," I said, my voice sharp, hard, and devoid of fear. "She’s my daughter."
Samuel tilted his head, stepping around me until he was standing directly in front of Chloe. He lowered his tall frame slightly, staring into my daughter’s face with a cold, terrifying intensity.
"What's your name, little girl?" Samuel asked.
Chloe looked up at him. She didn't flinch—she had that strange, fearless composure that I had spent eight years trying to understand. She looked at his expensive suit, his silver hair, his hard face, and then looked down at his shoes.
"Chloe," she said clearly. "Chloe Simmons."
"Chloe," Samuel repeated, testing the name on his tongue. He looked up at me, his mouth twisting into a dark, triumphant smile that sent a wave of nausea straight through my chest. "She has very interesting eyes, Natasha. Very distinct."
"Lots of people have blue eyes, Samuel," I hissed, pushing Chloe slightly behind my back.
"Not that shade of blue," Samuel replied quietly. "That shade of blue only exists in one family in Illinois. My brother had them. David has them. And now this little girl has them."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper.
"The rare donor match," Samuel realized, the pieces falling into place behind his calculating eyes. "It wasn't a registry match from Milwaukee, was it? It was her. An eight-year-old child with an Rh-null variant."
"Get away from her," I warned, reaching into my pocket and clutching my car keys like a weapon.
"Do you know what this means, Natasha?" Samuel murmured, ignoring my threat completely. "An eight-year-old direct heir. David’s biological daughter. Under the Carter family trust agreement signed by my father forty years ago, a direct child of the family head holds automatic voting rights over forty percent of the syndicate's real estate holdings upon turning eight."
My breath hitched. "What?"
"If David dies... or if David is declared unfit..." Samuel grinned, a horrifying, wolfish expression, "control of the entire trust doesn't pass to the captains. It passes to his legal guardian. To her mother."
He looked at me, his eyes gleaming with a sudden, dark ambition.
"You thought you were hiding her from us to keep her safe," Samuel whispered, leaning in until his breath touched my ear. "In reality, you just brought me the key to the entire Carter fortune."
Before I could react, Samuel turned to the two armed guards standing at the end of the hall.
"Lock down the fifth and sixth floors," Samuel ordered crisply. "No one leaves this building. Tell the private driver to bring the SUV around to the basement medical bay. Miss Simmons and her daughter will be staying with us at the estate tonight."
"Samuel, no!" I screamed, pulling Chloe into my arms and taking a step back toward the elevator.
Julian stepped between me and Samuel’s guards, his hand reaching inside his tactical jacket.
"Mr. Carter," Julian warned, his voice shaking with tension. "David is awake. You can't just take his family—"
"David is plugged into a ventilator, Julian," Samuel spat, pulling a small silver revolver from his own coat pocket with shocking speed. "And you work for the family. Move out of the way, or I’ll have Marcus put a bullet through your knee."
The two guards drew their weapons, pointing them directly at Julian's chest.
Chloe wrapped her arms around my neck, hiding her face in my shoulder, beginning to cry softly. "Mommy... Mommy, who are these bad men?"
"It’s okay, baby," I sobbed, holding her tight, backing up against the ICU observation window. "It’s okay, I've got you."
Inside Room 612, a heavy glass tumbler shattered against the floor.
CRASH!
Everyone spun around.
Inside the room, David Carter had pulled the clear plastic oxygen mask off his face. The heart monitor behind him was screaming with frantic, erratic alarms as his blood pressure spiked through the ceiling.
He was sitting upright on the edge of the hospital bed, his white gown stained with fresh red drops where the IV lines had been violently ripped from his arms.
His face was filled with a terrifying, unholy rage.
He grabbed the metal IV pole beside his bed, using it to push himself onto his feet. His legs trembled, his incision wound bleeding through his bandages, but he didn't stop. He dragged himself across the room, his dark blue eyes locked onto his uncle through the glass.
He raised his hand, his long fingers slamming hard against the reinforced observation glass.
THUMP!
The entire window shuddered.
May you like
David looked straight at Samuel, his jaw working as he forced his damaged vocal cords to produce a low, raspy, terrifying sound that tore through the glass window:
"Touch... them... and... I'll... kill... you..."
