Chapter 11 - The House by the SeaThe coordinates led to a private island off the coast of South Carolina.
Not slowly.
Catastrophically.
Andrew testified for nine hours.
Isabella produced recordings.
Anna described the staged car crash and kidnapping of her newborn son.
Melanie identified corrupt officials.
Claire told the jury how Richard threatened three children she'd never met in order to force an eighteen-year-old girl into confessing to murder.
Then came the witness nobody expected.
My mother.
Linda Miller walked into court carrying my father's files.
Richard finally stopped smiling.
She testified about the payment.
The threats.
My father's search.
The brake failure.
The anonymous phone calls afterward.
“You kept this secret for twenty-three years?” the defense attorney asked.
“Yes.”
“Why should this jury trust you now?”
My mother looked toward me.
“Because cowardice can last twenty-three years.”
The courtroom went silent.
“But it doesn't have to last twenty-four.”
Even the prosecutor paused.
That evening, William found me outside the courthouse.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
I laughed.
He had changed over the months.
Or perhaps I had stopped seeing the billionaire from magazine covers and started seeing the man underneath.
A father who woke up every night to check whether his son was still in bed.
A man learning that his entire childhood had been manipulated.
Someone who had money enough to own buildings but couldn't purchase the years Richard stole.
“You should go home,” he said.
“So should you.”
“Ethan's with Anna.”
“And Isabella.”
He smiled.
“The strangest parenting arrangement in Manhattan.”
“He seems happy.”
“He is.”
We started walking.
Reporters followed at a distance.
“Grace?”
“Yeah?”
“When this ends, what will you do?”
“Work.”
“That's depressing.”
“I like my work.”
“You refused my job first.”
“You're never going to let that go?”
“Probably not.”
I looked at him.
“And you?”
He thought about it.
“Sell Sterling International.”
I stopped walking.
“What?”
“I don't want Ethan inheriting a throne.”
“You built that company.”
“I inherited half of it.”
“You tripled it.”
“And nearly lost everything important while doing it.”
He looked toward the courthouse.
“I'll keep enough investments to make Ethan's future secure. The rest goes into restitution.”
“Victims?”
“Every family harmed by the network.”
“That could be hundreds of millions.”
“I have hundreds of millions.”
“You're a terrible billionaire.”
“I've been told.”
The trial entered closing arguments.
Then disaster struck.
One juror disappeared.
Police found his apartment empty.
His family gone.
On the kitchen counter sat a blue sapphire ring.
Richard was still reaching outside jail.
Someone was working for him.
Federal authorities feared jury tampering.
The judge isolated the remaining jurors.
Richard looked pleased.
Then Detective Kane received a video.
The missing juror sat tied to a chair.
Beside him were his wife and teenage daughter.
A masked man spoke.
“Charges against Richard Sterling disappear, or the family disappears.”
Kane slammed her fist onto a desk.
Richard claimed no knowledge.
Nobody believed him.
But proving he ordered it was different.
The masked man's voice sounded familiar.
I replayed it.
Again.
Again.
Something bothered me.
Not the tone.
The rhythm.
Then I realized.
I had heard it at Sterling House.
The security chief.
Aaron Cole.
William's trusted head of security.
The man who had been present the night Ethan disappeared.
The man responsible for the mansion cameras.
The person with access to every room.
I called William.
“Where is Aaron?”
“At the estate.”
“With Ethan?”
Silence.
Then William shouted for his driver.
By the time police reached Sterling House, Aaron Cole was gone.
So was Ethan.
Again.
But this time Anna and Isabella were missing too.
William nearly lost control.
“He took all three?”
The security footage showed Anna carrying an unconscious Ethan toward a vehicle while Aaron held a gun behind Isabella.
They hadn't gone willingly.
Kane traced Aaron's company phone.
Last signal: Sterling Aviation.
William owned two private jets.
One was preparing for departure.
Destination filed as Montreal.
Police surrounded the airport.
The jet was empty.
A distraction.
The actual aircraft was a smaller charter plane registered to a Richard Sterling shell corporation.
Already airborne.
Destination unknown.
Federal aviation tracked it south.
Then the transponder disappeared.
William stood in the operations room staring at the radar.
I understood his expression because I felt the same fear.
We had saved Ethan once.
Then twice.
Richard had planned for a third attempt.
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
A photograph.
Ethan sitting between Anna and Isabella inside the plane.
Below it:
YOU MOVED THE PAINTING, GRACE. NOW YOU GET TO PUT EVERYTHING BACK.
Then coordinates appeared.
May you like
And one instruction.
COME WITHOUT WILLIAM.
