Chapter 3 - The Rescue
I watched the unfolding chaos through the live feed on my laptop screen.
The advanced home security alarm silently disarmed as Marcus's team entered the side entrance.
The heavy side door swung open, and four armored operatives surged into the house.
Richard didn't notice them immediately, his back turned as he prepared for another swing.
Victoria saw them first, her eyes widening in sudden, panicked shock.
She spun around just as Marcus appeared in the garage doorway like an avenging angel.
Even without audio, the entire dynamic of the room shifted instantly.
Richard dropped the heavy rope, sending Mason swinging dangerously toward the concrete floor.
One of Marcus's massive operatives caught my son cleanly before his head could strike the hard ground.
A second operative immediately tackled Richard, slamming him hard against the workbench.
Victoria rushed forward, screaming soundlessly, but Marcus smoothly stepped in to block her path.
Ashley and Brooke instantly dropped their smartphones, the blood draining from their painted faces.
Madeline backed away slowly toward the far garage door, looking for a way to escape.
Within seconds, Mason was gently wrapped in a thick wool emergency blanket by a trained medic.
I called Marcus back instantly. "Talk to me. Give me a status update."
"Mason is conscious and breathing," Marcus reported, his voice steady.
I nearly collapsed in my chair, the tension leaving my lungs in a ragged gasp. "Is he injured?"
"Yes, sir," Marcus replied grimly.
The single word hit my chest like a heavy hammer. "How badly?"
"Visible bruising around the ribs and face. Deep rope burns encircling both ankles. Several older welts along his arms and back. We're running a full scan for fractures now."
I pressed my forehead hard against the cold glass of the Chicago hotel window.
The midnight city glittered brilliantly beneath me in a sea of neon and amber.
Countless cars moved steadily through the streets below.
People were walking casually into late-night restaurants and bars.
Somewhere in the distance, an ambulance siren wailed into the night.
How on earth could the rest of the world keep moving while my son's universe had just shattered?
"There's something else, Daniel," Marcus added, his tone darkening.
"What is it?" I asked, dreading the answer.
"Some of the injuries on his back are older."
I stopped breathing entirely. "How old?"
"They're in different stages of healing. This wasn't a first-time occurrence."
My knees felt weak beneath me, the foster care memories flashing vividly behind my eyes.
Marcus lowered his voice significantly. "He keeps apologizing to the medic."
"Apologizing for what?"
"He keeps saying he tried very hard to behave like a good boy."
I leaned my forehead harder against the glass, letting the chill bite into my skin.
Six years old.
He thought he was being abused because he wasn't good enough to be a Sterling.
My voice dropped into a register so cold it barely sounded human anymore. "Where are Victoria and Richard?"
"They're in the main living room, separated by my men. We've confiscated all their phones."
"Keep them right there. Don't let anyone move an inch."
"Daniel, you need to know that holding them here until local law enforcement arrives is going to get complicated."
"I'll deal with the complications."
"The family has powerful political ties—"
"Nobody leaves that damn house, Marcus."
Marcus knew me well enough from our years together to hear that I was completely past negotiating.
"Understood. We'll hold the perimeter."
I hung up and immediately dialed my private aviation coordinator. "Prepare the Gulfstream."
"Tonight, sir?" the pilot asked, sounding startled.
"Right now."
"What's our destination?"
May you like
"Westchester County Airport. File the absolute fastest legal flight plan you can manage."
There was a brief, obedient pause on the line. "Yes, sir. Warming up the engines now."
