Chapter 7 - The Patriarch's Terms
The thrumming rotor blades beat the icy rain into a stinging spray. Eleanor stood at the ledge of the forty-story drop, holding Lily firmly behind her. The gun was raised in Eleanor's hand, aimed squarely at Marcus Vance's heart.
"You lied to me," Eleanor shouted over the roar of the helicopter. "You told me she was stillborn!"
Marcus sighed, brushing a speck of moisture from his tailored cashmere overcoat. "Julian was weak, Eleanor. He wanted to split the industrial empire, surrender our defense contracts, and leave the Vance legacy to a mother who had no taste for blood. If Julian had lived, he would have ruined us. And if his child inherited his shares, you would have acted as regent."
"So you stole my baby and tried to kill Clara!"
"Clara was paid millions to ensure that girl disappeared into an anonymous life in the Midwest," Marcus replied coldly, gesturing with his leather-gloved hand toward Lily. "She broke the contract by bringing her back to this city. She grew greedy, Eleanor. Greed is always fatal."
"Where is she, Marcus?" Eleanor demanded, cocking the hammer of the pistol.
"Clara is currently reposing in a holding facility at the Old Harbor docks," Marcus said nonchalantly. "She has roughly two hours before the rising tide fills the lower sluice gates. So you see, Eleanor, you have a very simple mathematical problem."
He took two deliberate steps forward, completely unbothered by the gun pointed at him. He knew her conscience better than she did.
"Give me the child," Marcus offered, extending his hand. "Give her to me, and I will hand you the coordinates to Clara’s cell. You can save your old friend, leave the country, and live comfortably on an offshore stipend. Refuse... and Clara drowns, you die here, and Lily comes with me anyway."
Eleanor looked down at Lily. The girl’s eyes were filled with unspoken trust, small hands clutching the hem of Eleanor’s coat.
"You're forgetting one thing, Marcus," Eleanor said, her voice dropping into a deadly calm.
"And what is that?"
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"Julian didn't trust you either."
Eleanor turned her wrist, flashing the sapphire ring into the helicopter's searchlight, and fired the pistol—not at Marcus, but into the fuel line of the rooftop HVAC unit right beside him.
