Chapter 7
“What do you mean, they’re coming?” I shouted into the phone, the world tilting sideways.
“My father had Marcus follow Victoria,” Daniel said, his voice breathless and broken over the line. “He knows she went to the bookstore. He knows you tore up the check. Claire, he’s not waiting for court dates. He’s filed an ex parte emergency custody motion through an appellate judge in King County who owes him a seat on the federal bench. Child protective services are en route to your apartment with local sheriffs right now on an anonymous child endangerment tip.”
“Endangerment?!” I screamed, horror turning my blood to ice. “My children are healthy! They are safe!”
“Charles doesn't care about the truth!” Daniel yelled back. “He cares about paper! If they get those girls into state custody for even forty-eight hours, his lawyers will transfer jurisdiction to New York before you can even hire an attorney! You have to leave. Now!”
“Where am I supposed to go, Daniel? You brought this monster down on us!”
“The Olympic Hotel,” Daniel said, his voice dropping into a desperate, hurried whisper. “Room 1204. It’s registered under my mother’s maiden name—Eleanor Vance. No one knows I have the key. Come through the service entrance on Fourth Avenue. I swear on my life, Claire, I won't let him touch them.”
“Why should I trust you?” I cried, tears blinding me. “You let him do this to me two years ago!”
“Because two years ago I was a coward!” Daniel sobbed into the receiver. “I was terrified of losing his approval. But I looked into Maya’s eyes yesterday, Claire! I saw what I threw away! Please… give me one chance to stand between you and him. If you go home, you lose them.”
The line went dead.
I didn’t have time to process the betrayal, the fear, or the tears. Survival took over.
I bolted up the stairs to Nora’s apartment. Nora was sitting on the rug, reading a picture book to Maya and Chloe, who were happily chewing on graham crackers.
“Nora,” I said, my voice shaking so hard the words barely made sense. “We have to go. Charles Ashford is sending sheriffs to my apartment. They’re trying to take them.”
Nora didn’t blink. She stood up immediately, her gentle demeanor hardening into pure titanium. “My car is parked behind the alley. Take the keys from the bowl. Take my winter coats from the closet.”
“Nora, they might come here next—”
“Let them come to an old woman’s bookstore,” Nora said fiercely, grabbing my face in both of her hands. “I have lived in this city for forty years, Claire. I know every beat cop on this waterfront. I will stall them until hell freezes over. You save your babies.”
Five minutes later, I had Maya and Chloe strapped into the backseat of Nora’s battered Subaru. I drove through the pouring rain, avoiding the main avenues, watching my rearview mirror with obsessive terror. Every siren in the distance sounded like an Ashford-funded assault on my family.
When I pulled into the underground service bay of the Olympic Hotel, my hands were clamped so tightly onto the steering wheel that my knuckles were bloodless. I bundled the girls into oversized rain jackets, pulling their hoods low over their curls, and carried them through the noisy hotel kitchen, past busy dishwashers and line cooks who paid no attention to a stressed mother.
I took the freight elevator to the twelfth floor.
Room 1204.
My hand shook as I raised my fist to knock.
Before my knuckles could touch the wood, the door swung open.
Daniel stood there.
He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket. His sleeves were rolled up, his tie was gone, and his eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying. The moment he saw Maya and Chloe in my arms, a ragged breath escaped his chest.
“Get in,” he whispered, stepping aside.
I pushed past him into the lavish suite. I set the girls down on the thick carpet. Maya immediately ran toward a velvet armchair, while Chloe clung to my jeans, staring suspiciously at the giant room.
Daniel closed the door, threw the double deadbolt, and flipped the security latch.
He turned around and leaned his back against the door, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, burying his face in his hands.
His broad shoulders shook violently.
I stood in the center of the room, my chest heaving, watching the golden heir of Ashford Global weep like a broken child.
“Why did you do it, Daniel?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The anger had burned down into an unbearable, hollow ache. “Why that night? Why didn’t you just stand up and walk out with me?”
Daniel slowly lifted his head. His face was wet with tears, his expression gutted.
“Because he showed me the papers, Claire,” Daniel choked out.
I frowned. “What papers?”
“Thirty minutes before dinner,” Daniel whispered, staring blankly at the carpet between us. “Charles called me into his private study. He didn't just threaten my inheritance. He showed me a file on you. On your father.”
A cold shockwave rippled through my chest. “My father died when I was twelve. What does he have to do with anything?”
Daniel looked up at me, his eyes filled with a horror that had festered in the dark for two years.
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“Your father didn't die of a heart attack, Claire,” Daniel said quietly. “He was Charles’s chief financial officer twenty years ago. And the night before he died… he was preparing to blow the whistle on an eight-hundred-million-dollar fraud that built Ashford Global.”
***
