The automatic glass doors slid open with a soft hiss.

"I have to admit," Marcus said, stepping closer to the hooded boy, "I didn't think you'd figure it out. You were so beautifully broken, Eleanor. The grieving mother. It was poetry."

"Why?" Eleanor snarled, her finger twitching toward the Glock hidden beneath her coat.

"Because Richard was going to send me to prison!" Marcus yelled, his composure slipping. "I built Vance Holdings alongside him, and he was going to throw me away over a few million dollars! I took his life, and I took his heir. It was the perfect insurance policy. As long as I had the boy, I knew you'd never look too closely at the empire I was stealing out from under you."

"You sick, pathetic coward," Eleanor spat.

Marcus laughed. "Sticks and stones, my dear. Now, toss the briefcase. The codes to the Cayman accounts. Once I verify the funds are mine, I'll let the boy walk to you."

Eleanor looked at the trembling, hooded figure. She had to be sure. "Take the hood off. Let me see his face."

Marcus sighed dramatically, pulling a combat knife from his belt. "Always so demanding." He reached over and sliced the black fabric, pulling it away.

Eleanor’s heart stopped. The boy had messy brown hair and terrified green eyes. He was older, thinner, battered by years of captivity, but she would know those eyes anywhere. It was Leo.

"Mom?" the boy whispered, his voice cracking.

A tear tracked down Eleanor’s cheek, mixing with the rain. But her voice was steel. "Close your eyes, baby."

She looked at Marcus. "Here are your codes."