Chapter 9 - The Ultimatum
The phone slipped from my sweaty fingers and shattered violently on the boardroom floor.
Sophie was gone.
My beautiful seven-year-old daughter had been violently taken from my own home.
Grant grabbed my shoulders roughly, shaking me.
"What is wrong?" he demanded loudly.
"Where is she?"
"Maria said someone just took Sophie," I whispered, the horrifying reality suffocating me.
Grant’s face drained of all color, proving in that one second that he had absolutely nothing to do with it.
He was a monster and a thief, but he genuinely loved our daughter.
Vanessa suddenly bolted for the side exit of the crowded boardroom.
I lunged forward and grabbed a massive handful of her expensive blonde hair.
She screamed in pain as I yanked her backward and slammed her aggressively against the mahogany wall.
"Where is my daughter?" I screamed directly into her terrified face.
"I genuinely don't know!" she cried out in absolute panic.
"My father promised he wouldn't touch the little girl!"
Grant stared at Vanessa as if she had suddenly transformed into a terrifying alien.
"Your father?" Grant stammered in shock.
"Arthur Whitmore," I spat furiously at him.
"You absolute idiot, you let my criminal uncle orchestrate this entire takeover right under your nose."
Grant stumbled backward, finally realizing he had been completely played.
My shattered phone on the floor suddenly buzzed loudly with an incoming text message.
The glass screen was deeply cracked, but I could clearly read the words.
"Bring the original trust documents to the abandoned Whitmore factory on 4th Street."
"Come completely alone, or the little girl disappears forever."
I picked up the broken phone and shoved it deep into my coat pocket.
"I am going to get our daughter," I told Grant fiercely.
"Call the police right now," he begged desperately.
"If you call the cops, Arthur will kill her instantly," I warned him.
I ran out of the massive building and jumped into my car.
I drove wildly through the crowded city streets, ignoring every single red light.
The abandoned Whitmore factory loomed at the dark edge of the industrial district like a giant tombstone.
I parked the car haphazardly and grabbed the brown envelope containing the documents.
The heavy metal door of the factory groaned loudly as I pushed it open.
The cavernous interior was pitch dark and smelled heavily of rust and decay.
"I am here!" I shouted loudly into the terrifying shadows.
A single harsh spotlight suddenly clicked on in the center of the warehouse floor.
Underneath the bright, blinding light sat a wooden chair.
Sophie was securely tied to the chair, weeping quietly into a dirty rag gag.
"Mommy!" she muffled desperately through the filthy cloth.
"I have the documents!" I screamed, holding the envelope up high.
"Let her go right now!"
A tall figure slowly stepped out of the darkness and walked into the circle of light.
He was holding a suppressed pistol very casually in his right hand.
But it wasn't my Uncle Arthur.
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It was Daniel Price.
"Hello, Evelyn," my trusted lawyer said with a cold, terrifying smile.
