Chapter 3 - The Hostile Takeover
I shoved my phone into my pocket and carefully placed my mother into the passenger seat.
She was visibly trembling now, the pain in her hip finally breaking through her stoic facade.
“Ethan, what is happening?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“I am getting us out of here,” I said, slamming her door and sprinting to the driver’s side.
I tore out of the country club driveway, leaving the valet staring in shock.
My tires squealed against the asphalt as I merged onto the highway.
If Marcus was right, Claire’s family wasn't just trying to steal the company.
They were trying to legally enslave my mother to control her shares.
A conservatorship would give Arthur Sterling absolute power over her medical decisions, her finances, and her living arrangements.
I needed a safe place, somewhere completely disconnected from the Sterling empire.
I drove toward the old industrial district, far away from our affluent neighborhood.
There was a private clinic there, run by a doctor whose career my father had saved decades ago.
Dr. Aris was discreet, off the grid, and fiercely loyal to our family.
I navigated the maze of abandoned warehouses until I saw the unmarked brick building.
I helped my mother inside, where Dr. Aris took one look at us and immediately locked the front door.
He guided her into an examination room and administered a mild painkiller.
“Her hip isn't broken, but the hardware has shifted,” Dr. Aris explained quietly in the hallway.
“Can she be moved?” I asked.
“In a few hours, yes.”
I pulled out my phone and dialed Marcus.
“I have her somewhere safe,” I told him.
“You don't have much time, Ethan,” Marcus warned.
“Arthur Sterling just held a press conference outside the wedding venue.”
“What did he say?”
“He told the media that your mother had a severe mental breakdown, and that you kidnapped her.”
My blood ran completely cold.
“He said you are violently unstable, Ethan.”
“The police are looking for you, and Arthur has offered a million-dollar reward for your mother’s safe return.”
Suddenly, the heavy metal door of the clinic rattled loudly.
Someone was outside, violently trying to force the lock.
Dr. Aris backed away from the entrance, his face pale.
May you like
I looked through the small security monitor on the wall.
Standing on the porch were four heavily armed private security contractors wearing the Sterling corporate logo.
