Chapter 3 - The Interrogation
Avery held the heavy skillet higher, her knuckles white, her feet planted firmly on the worn rug.
"I have a phone!" Avery shouted back, forcing her voice not to tremble. "The police department is three blocks away! If you take one step toward this door, I swear to God I'll scream loud enough to wake the whole street!"
A brief silence hung in the hallway.
"The local police department's dispatch line has been temporarily rerouted to my private security detail, Miss Morrison," the voice replied calmly. "There are sixteen armed men surrounding this block. If I wanted to break down your door, it would take my team three seconds. I am standing here talking to you because my daughters' personal tracking beacons indicate their body temperatures have stabilized, and their heart rates are normal."
A small pause followed.
"You fed them," Julian Vance said. The icy tone in his voice cracked slightly, revealing a jagged edge of sheer, agonizing disbelief. "You gave them shelter. For that reason alone, I am offering you the courtesy of a conversation. Open the door."
Avery looked back at the sofa. The two girls were staring at the door. But to Avery's shock, they weren't screaming. They were staring at the wood with a strange, complex mix of fear and recognition.
"Is that... is that your daddy?" Avery asked the girls softly.
The dark-haired twin nodded slowly. "That's Daddy," she whispered. "But... but he's always angry now."
Avery swallowed hard. She set the cast-iron skillet down on the coffee table, moved the heavy bookshelf back two inches, and unlocked the deadbolts. She pulled the door open six inches, keeping the heavy security chain latched.
Julian Vance stood in the dim hallway light.
Up close, he was even more imposing. His gray-blue eyes were bloodshot, surrounded by dark circles of profound exhaustion. His tie was loosened, his expensive leather shoes dusted with mud. Behind him stood two massive security operatives, their hands resting near their jacket lapels.
Julian’s eyes didn't look at Avery. He looked past her shoulder, straight toward the sofa.
When he saw the two small girls wrapped in a faded quilt, eating apple pie with plastic spoons, the cold, impenetrable mask of the billionaire titan shattered into a thousand pieces.
Julian let out a ragged, gasping breath. He leaned his head against the doorframe for a single second, closing his eyes, his tall frame shuddering as if he had been struck by lightning.
"Maya... Chloe..." he whispered, his voice cracking violently.
"Mr. Vance," Avery said firmly, standing straight in the gap. "You are not coming in here until you tell me what is going on. These children were sitting under an oak tree in forty-degree weather. They were terrified. They said a 'dark man' took them."
Julian opened his eyes. The vulnerability vanished, instantly replaced by a terrifying, lethal coldness that made the air in the hallway feel like liquid nitrogen.
"The 'dark man' was my former head of security, Arthur Pendelton," Julian said, his voice dropping into a register that sent chills down Avery's spine. "He was paid twenty million dollars by my brother to kidnap my daughters during a custody transfer yesterday afternoon. He was supposed to hold them until I signed over the voting shares of Vance Global Holdings."
Julian took a step closer to the door, his gaze locking onto Avery’s eyes.
"Pendelton is currently in the back of an unmarked van three miles from here, undergoing an intense interrogation," Julian continued softly. "He told us he lost the girls at a gas station near the highway six hours ago. My team has been searching every square inch of this county since midnight."
Julian looked down at Avery’s worn sneakers, her faded jeans, her small, shabby apartment, and the two empty containers of diner soup sitting on the counter.
"I own three satellite networks, Miss Morrison," Julian said, his voice laced with a mixture of immense power and bitter, agonizing confusion. "I have two hundred private investigators on retainer. I offered a five-million-dollar reward three hours ago. And yet my daughters were found by a night-shift waitress with a bag of leftover soup."
He met her eyes again. "Why did they go with you? They don't trust anyone. They haven't spoken a word to a stranger since their mother died two years ago."
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Avery looked at the billionaire standing in her hallway, surrounded by armed guards and terrifying power, and she felt no fear—only a profound, boiling anger.
"They went with me," Avery said, her voice ringing like a bell in the quiet hallway, "because I didn't approach them with three SUVs and a team of men with guns. I knelt in the dirt, I wrapped them in my scarf, and I asked them if they were cold. Now take your security guards back down to the street, Mr. Vance. You're scaring them all over again."
