Chapter 4 - The Safehouse
The Suburban pulled into an underground garage beneath a nondescript brownstone in Brooklyn Heights. Marcus didn’t speak another word during the drive, his eyes fixed on the tablet screen resting on his knee.
“Out,” Marcus said as the hydraulic garage door rolled closed, sealing them off from the city.
Evelyn carried Lily inside. The penthouse was minimalist, sleek, and heavily fortified. Bullet-resistant glass lined the perimeter windows overlooking the East River.
Marcus tossed a warm woolen blanket to Evelyn, who immediately wrapped it around Lily’s shivering frame.
“Drink this,” Marcus placed a mug of hot cocoa on the kitchen island for the girl, followed by a tumbler of straight bourbon for Evelyn.
Evelyn didn’t touch the glass. Her posture remained coiled, defensive. “Why did you help us, Marcus? You haven’t spoken to your family since you walked away from Vance Logistics three years ago.”
Marcus pulled out a stainless steel chair, turning it backward before sitting down. “Because Julian didn’t just frame Lily for stealing a brooch, Evelyn. He staged the whole damn thing to trigger the morals clause in your custody agreement.”
Evelyn felt the room drop ten degrees. “What?”
“Think about it,” Marcus leaned forward, tapping his fingers against the table. “Julian’s trust fund expires on his thirty-fifth birthday next month unless he produces a direct heir to satisfy the board of directors. The board won’t give him a dime without full legal custody of Lily. He needs you declared an unfit, violent felon. That gala was a setup from the second you received the invitation.”
Lily looked up from her cocoa, her eyes wide and wet. “Mommy didn’t steal anything. I bumped into him because he tripped me on purpose!”
Evelyn knelt down, stroking Lily’s dark hair. “I know, baby. I know.”
“He has the NYPD looking for you on grand larceny and felony assault charges,” Marcus said, turning his tablet toward Evelyn.
On the screen was Julian’s swollen face, an exaggerated neck brace wrapped around his throat, holding an impromptu press conference on the steps of the gala. Standing right next to him was Eleanor, wiping away fake tears for the flashing cameras.
“We’re filing an emergency restraining order tonight,” Eleanor was saying to the microphones. “We fear for our granddaughter’s safety in the hands of an unstable, violent woman.”
Evelyn gripped the edge of the granite counter until her knuckles went pale. “He’s going to take her from me.”
“Not if we dismantle him first,” Marcus replied calmly. “Julian made one fatal mistake tonight.”
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“What mistake?”
Marcus pulled a high-resolution photograph onto the tablet screen. “He didn’t check the serial number on the brooch he claimed was stolen.”
