Chapter 2 - The Car That Left at Noon
The air in the grand hall turned to vacuum.
Adrian slowly stood up.
He didn't yell.
He didn't curse.
That was what made him terrifying.
He looked at Brielle.
His slate eyes were completely black.
“Where is my six-year-old son, Brielle?”
Brielle backed away until her spine hit the fireplace mantel.
“Adrian, calm down. The director of Northfield is a family friend. Owen needed
early evaluation before the semester—”
“Clara called me at four,” Adrian whispered.
His voice was like grinding stones.
“She told me Owen was playing in her garden.”
Brielle swallowed.
Her throat clicked.
“I... I paid Clara to tell you that. Just until the papers were signed.”
Adrian turned his head slightly.
“Matteo.”
The head of security materialized from the shadows near the entrance.
A six-foot-four enforcer with cauliflower ears and a scarred chin.
“Boss?”
“Lock every gate on this estate,” Adrian commanded.
“Take Brielle’s phone. Take her purse. If she takes a single breath toward the
exit, put her in the cellar.”
The guests began gasping, scrambling from their chairs.
High society women gathered their furs.
Judges and councilmen looked at the floor, avoiding Adrian’s gaze.
“Everyone leaves,” Adrian announced without looking at them.
“Now.”
In ninety seconds, the grand ballroom was empty.
Only Adrian, Matteo, Brielle, Lucy, and me remained.
Lucy was clinging to my apron, trembling from head to foot.
I knelt beside her, wrapping my arms around her narrow shoulders.
“I'm right here, Lucy,” I signed against her arm. “You're safe.”
Matteo handed Adrian a sleek gold iPhone.
“Her recent calls, Don Adrian. A transport service based out of Scranton.
Northfield Academy.”
Adrian dialed the number on speaker.
A dial tone rang twice.
Then a dry, corporate voice answered:
“Northfield Admissions. Director Vance speaking.”
“This is Adrian Marzano,” Adrian said.
The room temperature plummeted ten degrees.
“You have my son in your custody.”
A brief pause.
“Mr. Marzano? Mrs. Marzano provided legal custody transfer forms notarized two
hours ago. The child is currently in transit to our private residential campus.”
“Listen to me very carefully, Vance,” Adrian growled.
“There is no Mrs. Marzano. You have ninety seconds to turn that transport
around, or I will burn your facility to the bedrock.”
Director Vance let out a dry, chilling chuckle.
“Mr. Marzano, you might run the Philadelphia docks, but you don't run the state
board. Miss Ashton’s father holds our operational charter. The boy stays with us
until the custody hearing next month.”
The line clicked dead.
Adrian crushed the phone in his bare hand.
Glass splintered into his palm.
Blood dripped onto the white linen tablecloth.
Brielle let out a terrified sob from the corner.
“Adrian, please! My father just wanted leverage on the union shipping routes! He
promised Owen wouldn't be hurt!”
Adrian didn't look at her.
He reached inside his tuxedo jacket.
He pulled out a customized, matte-black Sig Sauer pistol.
He racked the slide with a clean, deafening CLACK.
Then his encrypted radio crackled on Matteo’s belt.
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A panicked voice spoke from the front gates:
“Boss! A black convoy just rammed the south entrance! They’re shooting!”
