Chapter 4 - The Glass Tower
The penthouse at 740 Park Avenue occupied the top two floors of one of the most exclusive residential buildings in the world.
When the private elevator doors opened directly into the marble foyer, Emma froze.
She had never seen a place like this outside of the magazines her grandmother sometimes found in the recycling bins downstairs. The ceilings were sixteen feet high. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered an unobstructed view of Central Park, where the trees were just beginning to turn orange and gold in the autumn light. The air smelled of fresh lilies, polished wood, and vanilla.
A woman in a crisp black uniform stepped forward immediately.
"Good evening, Mr. Parker," said Mrs. Higgins, William’s head housekeeper. She stopped in surprise as she saw her employer—a man known for his extreme neatness—standing in the foyer with a baby sleeping on his shoulder, his expensive suit wrinkled and stained with milk, holding the hand of a thin girl in scuffed sneakers.
"Mrs. Higgins," William said calmly, handing his keys to Marcus. "This is Emma and Noah. They will be staying in the east guest suite for the foreseeable future."
"Of course, sir," Mrs. Higgins said, her professional training kicking in instantly. She offered Emma a warm, motherly smile. "Welcome, dear. Let me take your coat."
"I... I don't have a coat," Emma said softly, holding her small cloth bag tightly against her side.
Mrs. Higgins’s eyes softened with deep sympathy. "Then let's go draw a warm bath for you, shall we? I have some brand new cotton pajamas that were bought for Mr. Parker’s nieces that will fit you perfectly."
Two hours later, the penthouse was quiet.
Emma sat at a massive mahogany dining table that could seat eighteen people. She was wearing soft cream-colored flannel pajamas, her wet hair wrapped in a fluffy white towel. In front of her sat a plate of roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a tall glass of fresh apple juice.
She ate slowly, deliberately, her manners impeccable despite her overwhelming hunger.
William sat across from her, holding a crystal glass of sparkling water. He watched her finish every bite, noting how she wiped her mouth with her linen napkin after every few mouthfuls—a clear sign of the upbringing her grandmother had worked so hard to give her despite their poverty.
Noah was fast asleep in a wooden crib that Marcus had purchased and assembled in the adjacent guest room three hours earlier, his stomach full of specialized infant formula.
"How is the food?" William asked softly.
"It's... it's the best thing I've ever eaten," Emma whispered, looking down at her plate. "Grandma used to make turkey on Thanksgiving. But last year we only had canned soup."
"You won't have to eat canned soup again, Emma," William said gently.
Before Emma could respond, a soft chime sounded from the foyer elevator.
Marcus stepped into the dining room, his face serious. He leaned down and whispered into William’s ear.
"Boss. We have a problem."
William’s eyes narrowed slightly. "What kind of problem?"
"The police just showed up at 138th Street," Marcus reported quietly. "A woman named Brenda Wilson—the neighbor—called Child Protective Services. She reported that an eleven-year-old girl and a baby were 'abducted' from Apartment 4B by an unidentified wealthy man in a black SUV."
William set his glass down on the table. The crystal clicked against the wood with a sharp, lethal sound.
"She called CPS?" William asked, his voice dropping into a dangerously low register. "The same neighbor who abandoned Noah four months ago?"
"Yes, sir," Marcus said. "And there's more. Mrs. Wilson’s lawyer just filed an emergency petition for temporary custody of Noah. It turns out Noah’s biological mother left a life insurance policy naming Noah as the sole beneficiary—a policy worth four hundred thousand dollars that matures the moment the child is officially placed in legal guardianship."
Emma dropped her fork. It clattered loudly against her china plate.
"She... she wants Noah?" Emma gasped, her face turning ghost white as she stood up from the table. "No! Please, Mr. Parker! She locked him in a dark room when he was three months old! She didn't feed him! She only gave him to us because he wouldn't stop crying!"
William stood up. He walked around the long table, placed his hands on Emma’s shoulders, and looked down into her terrified eyes.
"Listen to me very carefully, Emma," William said, his voice ringing with absolute, unwavering authority. "Nobody is taking Noah. Nobody is taking you. And nobody is touching your grandmother."
He turned his head toward Marcus.
"Call Evelyn Reed," William ordered.
May you like
Marcus blinked. "Evelyn Reed? The chief managing partner of Reed & Vance Family Law? Boss, she charges fifteen hundred dollars an hour—"
"I don't care if she charges fifteen thousand dollars a minute," William snapped coldly. "Get her on the phone right now. Tell her I want a full restraining order against Brenda Wilson, an immediate fraud investigation into that insurance policy, and temporary legal guardianship papers for both Emma and Noah on my desk before the sun comes up tomorrow."
