Chapter 5 - Operation Ghost
The next morning, I met Briggs and my legal team in an underground garage downtown.
"We have a location," I stated, slamming the printouts of Tessa’s text logs onto the hood of the car. "The Whitmore estate in Stowe, Vermont. My son is being held there under guard."
"Rowan, we can't just storm a high-security estate in another state," my lead corporate attorney, Marcus Vance (no relation to the PI), warned. "If we involve local police without solid legal custody papers, the Whitmores will use their jurisdictional power to delay the raid, move the child, and bury you in legal motions until the kid disappears into Europe."
"I'm not involving the police," I said coldly. "Not yet."
I turned to Briggs. "How fast can you assemble a private recovery team? Ex-military, silent, and completely discreet?"
"Twelve hours," Briggs replied without hesitation. "But if we pull this off, you need to be prepared for the fallout. The moment that baby is taken from that estate, Tessa will know you onto her. The wedding will be off, and Richard Whitmore will initiate a hostile takeover of Cole International using the stock options you foolishly granted them last month."
"Let them try," I gritted out. "They think they are playing a game of corporate chess. They don't realize I am prepared to burn the entire board to ashes."
While Briggs organized the tactical recovery team for Vermont, I took an unmarked helicopter to my grandfather's hidden compound in the Blue Ridge Mountains to see Maren and my children.
When I stepped into the cabin on the mountain estate, the contrast was staggering. Maren was sitting near a warm fireplace, wrapped in a soft wool blanket. Little Liam was crawling across a clean plush rug, while Maya was giggling as a nurse fed her a bottle.
For a moment, the heavy darkness sitting on my chest lifted.
Maren stood up as I walked in. She looked healthier; color had returned to her cheeks, though the exhaustion in her eyes remained.
"Is there news?" she asked immediately, ignoring any pleasantries.
"We located him," I said quietly, walking over to her. "He's at an estate in Vermont. My team is moving in tonight."
Maren choked back a sob, placing her trembling hands over her mouth. "Is he... is he safe? Is he being cared for?"
"He has a dedicated nanny," I explained. "They are keeping him isolated, but he is physically healthy. Tessa planned to move him out of the country after our wedding, but that is never going to happen."
Maren reached out and grabbed my forearm, her fingers digging deep into my jacket. "I'm coming with you."
"Maren, no," I urged softly. "It’s too dangerous. If things go wrong—"
"He is my son!" she snapped, her eyes flashing with a fierce, terrifying maternal rage. "I missed the first year of his life because you let that snake ruin us! I sat in a cold room listening to doctors tell me he was dead while she dressed him in silk! I am getting on that plane with you, Rowan, or I will drive to Vermont myself!"
May you like
I looked into her eyes and realized there was no arguing. The fierce, brilliant woman I had fallen in love with years ago was fully awake, and nothing on earth could stand between her and her baby.
"Pack your bags," I said softly. "We leave in thirty minutes."
