Chapter 5 - The Glass Fortress
"Victoria!" I gasped, pulling the blanket up to my chest.
Victoria’s eyes went wide with pure panic. She lunged forward, trying to jam the needle directly into the soft plastic tubing of my IV line, but Gabriel yanked her backward with a violent twist of his arm, sending the metal tray crashing to the floor. The glass vials shattered against the tile, releasing a harsh, chemical odor of concentrated synthetic oxytocin—a drug used to induce high-intensity labor contractions.
"Get security!" Gabriel roared, throwing Victoria against the wall and pinning her shoulders with his forearm. "Call Agent Chen now!"
Within ninety seconds, the hallway was filled with the sound of shouting guards and running feet. Two federal marshals rushed into the room, tackling Victoria to the floor as she screamed obscenities, her blonde hair falling out of its neat bun.
"It wasn't my idea!" Victoria shrieked as the steel handcuffs snapped around her wrists. "Arthur paid me! He said if the baby was born before the appellate court hearing tomorrow, the custody hold would be automatic! He’s at the marina! He’s on the yacht!"
Agent Chen stepped into the room two minutes later, her trench coat dripping wet from the storm outside. She picked up one of the broken glass shards from the floor using a plastic evidence bag, holding it up to the fluorescent light.
"Concentrated Pitocin," Chen said, her jaw set in a hard, dangerous line. "High enough dosage to induce tetanic uterine contractions within ten minutes. It would have caused fetal distress severe enough to require an emergency C-section at a private clinic."
"She said Arthur is at the marina," I said, my voice shaking as I gripped Gabriel’s hand. "The yacht... The Royal Sovereign."
"That’s Thomas Vance’s private registry boat," Gabriel said, looking at Agent Chen. "It’s registered under a Panamanian flag. If that boat clears the three-mile territorial water line off Lake Michigan, federal warrants can't touch the physical servers stored in the onboard safe."
"Why would the servers be on the yacht?" Chen asked.
"Because the physical paper deeds for the entire Sterling estate—including the original trust documents proving my father forged my signature on the guardianship transfer—are kept in the yacht’s fireproof master vault," I said, standing up from the bed despite the sharp pull of the IV line. "My father took them from the house three days ago before the wedding."
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"Clara, no," Gabriel caught my shoulder. "You’re in no condition to move."
"If those deeds hit international waters, Julian and Thomas will use the offshore trust to claim my daughter the moment she takes her first breath," I said, looking Gabriel straight in the eyes. "I’m coming with you."
