The hospital lockdown alarm shrieked like a dying animal.Blake helped Emma into the wheelchair, her grip on his hand tight enough to crush bone. Another contraction hit, doubling her over with a scream that cut through the alarm's wail."We need to move her," the nurse said, already pushing the wheelchair toward the elevator.Sam was on three phones simultaneously, coordinating. "Lockdown confirmed. All entrances sealed. Security sweeping the building. FBI en route, ETA twelve minutes.""Twelve minutes is too long," Blake said. "Where's Alexei now?""Parking garage, level three. Armed. He's got five men with him, maybe six. They're moving toward the main building."The elevator doors opened. They rushed Emma inside, Blake and two armed guards cramming in beside the medical staff.Emma's hand found Blake's, squeezed. "What's happening?""Security situation. We're handling it." Blake kept his voice calm despite the terror clawing at his chest. "Focus on the baby. Everything else is und

Blake found Sarah in the hospital lobby, sitting in a plastic chair that had probably seen a thousand desperate people before her.She held a baby. Maybe three months old, wrapped in a blanket that had seen better days. The child was quiet, staring at nothing with the thousand-yard stare babies sometimes had.Sarah looked up when Blake approached. She'd lost weight. Her face was gaunt, eyes sunken, the kind of desperate that made people dangerous."Blake Sterling." She stood, careful with the baby. "Thank you for coming down.""What do you want, Sarah?"No pleasantries. No pretense. Blake was done playing games with people who'd allied with his enemies.Sarah's jaw tightened. "Carter told me everything. Before—before what happened to him. Every secret you've kept. Every shady deal. Every illegal activity you've hidden behind your billions."Blake waited. Let her finish."I have documents. Recordings. Evidence that could destroy you. Your company. Everything." Sarah shifted the baby to

Blake tripled security the day after visiting Lillian.Cameras in every corner of Sterling estate. Guards rotating in twelve-hour shifts. Background checks on everyone who came within a hundred feet of Grace. The pediatrician. The cleaning staff. Even the mailman.Emma thought he was being paranoid. Blake knew he was being smart.In her solitary cell, Madam Mary was unraveling.The prison psychiatrist noted it in her weekly evaluations. Talking to herself. Writing letters to people who didn't exist. Laughing at jokes nobody had told. Classic signs of isolation-induced psychosis.But when Dr. Richards looked closer, he saw something beneath the madness. A coldness. A clarity that appeared when Madam Mary thought nobody was watching.She wasn't losing her mind. She was performing insanity."How are you feeling today, Mrs. Patterson?" Dr. Richards asked during their session.Madam Mary rocked in her chair, humming tunelessly. "The flowers are speaking. They say Blake Sterling's daughter

Emma's scream turned primal, inhuman, the sound of something breaking beyond repair.Blake was already moving, tearing through the estate room by room, throwing open doors, checking closets, looking places a one-year-old couldn't possibly be but checking anyway because Grace was gone and logic had evaporated."Lock it down!" Sam was shouting into his radio. "All exits sealed! Nobody leaves! I want eyes on every vehicle, every window, every—"Guests scattered. Some helping search. Others frozen in shock. Victoria was crying. Robert was trying to hold Emma upright while she screamed their daughter's name.The estate transformed into a war zone in seconds. Guards flooding in from every post. Doors slamming shut. Locks engaging with heavy clunks that sounded like coffins closing.But Grace was already gone.Police arrived within eight minutes. FBI within fifteen. Amber alert issued before Blake even finished giving Grace's description. One year old. Twenty-three pounds. Brown hair. Gray-b

The knife moved a fraction of an inch.Blake's world stopped. Every breath. Every heartbeat. Every thought except the blade touching his daughter's throat."Don't." The word came out strangled. "Please. Cassandra. Don't."Cassandra's hand was shaking. The knife trembled against Grace's skin, that thin line of blood growing fractionally wider."I don't want to," Cassandra sobbed. "I don't want to hurt her. But I can't go back to prison. I can't—""You won't." Blake forced his voice steady despite terror eating him alive. "I promise. Put down the knife. Give me Grace. We'll figure this out together."Sam's voice crackled through Blake's earpiece, barely audible. "Snipers have clear shots. Say the word."Blake touched his earpiece, signal to stand down. The red laser dots disappeared from Cassandra's chest."I'm alone," Blake said to Cassandra. "No backup. No weapons. Just me. Just a father trying to get his daughter back.""You have snipers." Cassandra's laugh was broken. "I saw the dot