"My billionaire employer caught my three-year-old barefoot in his forbidden ballroom, holding his little boy’s hands and dancing to a recording no one was supposed to find. I thought Nathaniel Reed would fire me on the spot, until he saw the woman on the screen and whispered, “That’s my wife. Who taught your daughter her dance?”

The sight of the gun barrel aimed at Nathaniel caused Clara’s instincts to flare. Without thinking, she stepped slightly behind Nathaniel as he immediately shifted his large frame to shield her completely from Vance’s line of fire.

“Richard,” Nathaniel said, his voice dropping into an icy calm that belied the adrenaline surging through the room. “Thirty years my father paid your firm. You watched me grow up. You held Eli at his baptism.”

“And your father treated me like an overpaid servant while Julian and I did the heavy lifting!” Vance snarled, taking a measured step into the ballroom. “Julian understood business. You and Evelyn were sentimental fools who thought corporate billions could be run like a charity! Give me the drive, Nathaniel. Right now.”

Nathaniel didn’t flinch. “You killed her. You had the mechanic cut the brake lines on Route 9.”

“It was supposed to look like hydroplaning,” Vance said with cold indifference. “She survived the crash for three days in the ICU. Do you know how much panic that caused us? We had to bribe the attending physician to switch her saline IV with potassium chloride. A simple cardiac arrest. Neat. Clean.”

Hearing the brutal confession of how his beloved wife was murdered tore something fundamental inside Nathaniel.

With a roar of pure fury, Nathaniel didn’t reach for his gun; he hurled the heavy steel flashlight straight at Vance’s face.

The heavy cylinder struck Vance’s wrist just as he pulled the trigger.

Phut!

The suppressed gunshot blew a chunk of plaster from the ballroom ceiling. Vance stumbled backward, cursing as his gun clattered across the parquet floor.

Clara saw her chance. Grabbing an antique bronze candelabra from the side table, she swung it with both hands, striking Vance across the shoulder with all her strength. The corrupt lawyer yelled in pain, falling to his knees.

Nathaniel closed the distance in a heartbeat. He seized Vance by the lapels of his cashmere coat, slamming him back against the wall with enough force to rattle the crystal sconces. Nathaniel drew his Glock, pressing the cold steel directly beneath Vance’s jaw.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn't end you where you stand,” Nathaniel growled, his knuckles white with bloodlust.

“Because...” Vance wheezed, blood trickling from his split lip, “Julian has already taken the children.”

Nathaniel froze. Clara felt the floor drop out from under her world.

“What did you say?” Clara screamed, dropping the candelabra and grabbing Vance’s collar. “What did you do to Sophia?!”

“Julian didn’t leave the property,” Vance grinned maliciously through the blood. “While you two were playing detectives down here, Julian’s team went up the service elevator with an override code. Your friend Marcus is unconscious. The kids are in the back of Julian’s SUV heading for the private airstrip in Teterboro. If you kill me, you’ll never get the coordinates to the hangar.”

Nathaniel’s face transformed into an expression of terrifying, unbridled wrath. He didn't pull the trigger, but he brought the butt of the weapon down across Vance’s temple, knocking the lawyer unconscious instantly.

Nathaniel turned to Clara, his eyes burning with lethal determination.

“He lied about Teterboro,” Nathaniel said rapidly, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Julian’s private jet is registered out of Westchester. Clara, we have twenty minutes before they clear airspace.”