Chapter 8 - The Father's Fury
The air in the grand study turned dangerously cold.
Within one hour, Julian’s personal medical team had processed a rapid DNA swab taken from Leo—whom Emily had hidden safely at a trusted neighbor's house near the city outskirts.
The private laboratory report lay on the desk.
PROBABILITY OF PATERNITY: 99.99%.
Julian stared at the paper. For thirteen years, he had lived in an empty wasteland of grief. Now, the truth hit him like a physical blow: his son was alive. He had been rescued by two tiny, homeless five-year-old twin girls who had carried him through the cold night and protected him for over a decade.
"Marcus," Julian said. His voice was low, devoid of emotion—a calm that terrified even his veteran security chief.
"Yes, Mr. Vance?"
"Grace Vance is currently held at the Central Precinct under false charges. I want her released within thirty minutes. Use every judge, every lawyer, every commissioner on our payroll. If she is not sitting in this room by midnight, I will tear the justice department apart."
"Understood, sir."
"And Arthur?" Julian added, his eyes turning to burning ash.
"We tracked his private vehicle movements," Marcus reported. "He realized the girl breached the estate. Twenty minutes ago, Arthur’s men located the safehouse where the boy was hiding. They took him."
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Julian stood up slowly. He walked over to a wall safe, opened it, and pulled out a leather-wrapped case.
"He took my son once," Julian whispered, racking the slide of a sleek black pistol. "He will not take him a second time. Mobilize the entire strike team. We are going to the docks."
