Chapter 4 - The Predator Unleashed
"Mr. Vance?" I barked into the phone the instant the line connected, cutting off my chief corporate counsel before he could even introduce himself.
“Christopher? I thought you were boarding for Baltimore. The board meeting in Maryland is set for—”
"Cancel it," I snapped, pacing back and forth across the terminal floor like a caged wolf. "Listen to me very carefully, Vance. I want every single asset held under my mother’s personal trust frozen immediately. I want a complete forensic audit of every foundation transfer she’s initiated over the last decade, and I want a title search on her primary estate executed by a private bailiff within the hour."
A heavy silence hung on the other end of the line. “Sir? Freezing Madam Genevieve’s trust requires a court order or a direct declaration of financial malfeasance under corporate governance bylaws. On whose authority are we—?”
"On the authority of the sole majority shareholder and CEO of Kane Hospitality Group!" I roared, causing a nearby TSA agent to turn and eye me suspiciously. I lowered my voice, though the fury in it remained sharp enough to cut glass. "Do it, Vance. If you hesitate for two seconds, I’ll fire you and hire someone who knows how to move when I give an order."
“Understood, Mr. Kane. I’ll initiate the freeze right away. Is everything alright?”
"Everything is about to change," I said, and hung up.
I turned back to Rosalind. She was still sitting against the glass, staring up at me with an expression that hovered somewhere between awe and deep-seated terror. She wasn't used to seeing this side of me—the ruthless, uncompromising corporate predator that my mother had spent my entire life grooming me to become.
"You're going to tear down your own family," Rosalind whispered, her fingers tracing the edge of the battered blue suitcase. "You don't know what Genevieve is capable of, Christopher. She doesn't lose. She destroys."
"Neither do I," I said, stepping closer and kneeling down beside her once more. I reached out, my fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from her forehead—the exact delicate gesture I had noticed thirty minutes ago that had stopped my world on its axis. "And this time, I'm not fighting alone. I have my family back."
Rosalind closed her eyes, letting out a long, shuddering breath as if she wanted to believe me, as if the armor she had worn for six years was finally starting to crack beneath the weight of her exhaustion.
"They need food, Christopher," she murmured, her voice breaking. "And clothes. We... we spent the last three days sleeping in a rented car after our landlord locked us out because I couldn't cover the rent hike."
A fresh spike of white-hot rage pierced my chest. While my mother sat in her multi-million-dollar Minnesota estate sipping imported tea and hosting charity galas, the woman I loved and my two sons had been sleeping in a car.
"That ends right now," I said. I pulled off my expensive cashmere overcoat and draped it gently around Rosalind's shoulders, ignoring the startled look she gave me. Then I scooped up the sleeping twin into my arms, marveling at how light he felt, how perfectly his small frame molded against my shoulder just as if he belonged there all along.
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"Come on," I told her, extending my free hand to help her and the other boy to their feet. "We're going home. And then, we're going to pay my mother a visit."
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