Chapter 11 - The Harbor Lights
They burst from the tunnel into the desolate industrial basin near the shipping docks. Thomas’s unmarked black SUV was parked under the rusted overhang of a decommissioned pumping station, its engine cold but functional.
Ethan shoved Claire and Noah into the passenger side, threw the car into reverse, and tore out of the gravel lot just as two dark figures emerged from the culvert behind them, firing uselessly at the retreating vehicle.
Noah was crying now—a thin, exhausted wail that broke Ethan’s heart.
""We need warmth,"" Claire gasped, her teeth chattering so violently she could barely form words. ""He's too cold, Ethan. Newborns can't regulate their temperature. If we don't get him warm and dry, he'll go into hypothermia.""
Ethan ripped off his torn tuxedo jacket and threw it into the backseat, cranking the vehicle's heating system to maximum. Warm air blasted through the vents, slowly filling the cabin.
He glanced down at the encrypted phone Thomas had provided. A single contact was saved on the device: EVELYN.
""Evelyn Vance,"" Ethan murmured, his heart pounding. ""Arthur Vance's widow. She lives on the coastal bluffs. If she's still alive, she’s Claire’s great-aunt.""
""She won't know me,"" Claire said, tears drying against her pale cheeks. ""My mother never spoke of her family. She cut all ties to protect me from their corporate wars.""
""She is the only person in this state with enough money and legal firepower to counter Richard Sterling,"" Ethan stated firmly. ""We have twenty minutes before the tracker on this car comes back online.""
He sped north along the coastal highway, the ocean churning in violent black waves beneath the cliffside road. The storm was worsening, rain lashing against the windshield like thrown gravel.
Ethan dialed the number on the satellite phone. It rang three times before an elderly, aristocratic voice answered with cool suspicion.
""Speak.""
""Mrs. Vance,"" Ethan said, his voice raw. ""My name is Ethan Hayes. I am standing with Claire Henderson—your niece Eleanor’s daughter. And your grand-nephew, Noah.""
A sharp intake of breath hissed across the line. Silence stretched for five agonizing seconds.
""Richard Sterling announced two hours ago that Eleanor's daughter died during childbirth,"" the old woman said, her voice trembling with barely concealed rage. ""He presented an expedited death certificate to the probate court to claim her proxy shares.""
Ethan gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles popped. ""She is alive, Mrs. Vance. We are five miles from your estate. And Richard’s mercenaries are hunting us to make sure that death certificate becomes real.""
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""The iron gates are open,"" Evelyn Vance said, her voice turning into cold steel. ""Come inside. But Ethan... you were followed from the highway.""
Ethan glanced into his rearview mirror. Two pairs of blinding halogen headlights appeared over the crest of the hill behind them, closing the distance at terrifying speed.
