Chapter 13 - Twelve Hours
Claire did not remember leaving the boardroom.
One moment she was standing beside the table.
The next she was inside a car, calling Noah’s nanny.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Rebecca contacted Washington police.
Ethan called the townhouse security company.
The front-door camera showed Noah leaving at 10:18 a.m.
He was holding the hand of a woman wearing a baseball cap.
Claire zoomed in.
“Who is she?”
Ethan froze.
“I know her.”
“Who?”
“Adrian’s mother.”
Evelyn Vale.
Claire’s entire body turned cold.
Another camera showed Evelyn placing Noah inside a black SUV.
Rebecca called Adrian.
He answered on the first ring.
“Where is Noah?”
Adrian sounded confused.
“What?”
“Your mother took him.”
Silence.
Then Adrian cursed.
“I didn’t tell her to do that.”
Claire believed him.
That frightened her more.
“Find her.”
Adrian immediately called Evelyn.
No answer.
Malcolm’s phone was off.
Then Claire received a photograph.
Noah asleep inside a guest bedroom.
Below it was a message from an unknown number.
Withdraw every claim against Vale Industries.
Return your shares.
Destroy the recordings.
You have twelve hours.
Claire stopped breathing.
Rebecca read the message.
“This is kidnapping.”
Claire’s voice shook.
“That is my son.”
Federal authorities were contacted.
Airports were notified.
License-plate scanners began searching for the SUV.
Adrian joined the call.
Claire did not want him near her.
But he knew his parents.
“Where would they go?”
Adrian paced inside an office.
“My father has properties everywhere.”
“Which ones does your mother know?”
“All of them.”
“Think.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
Then he remembered Christmas when he was twelve.
A place his mother called the quiet house.
A property never used for company events.
“Virginia.”
Claire looked at him through the screen.
“Where?”
“Outside Middleburg.”
He gave the address.
Agents moved.
Claire stared at Adrian.
“If he hurts Noah—”
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know your father.”
Adrian’s face broke for the first time.
“No.”
His voice became hollow.
“I’m beginning to understand that.”
Eleven hours remained.
Then a second message arrived.
This time there was no photograph.
Only audio.
Noah’s frightened voice whispered through Claire’s phone.
“Mommy?”
Claire covered her mouth.
Then Malcolm spoke.
“Eleven hours, Claire.”
The recording ended.
Adrian heard it.
His face became something Claire had never seen before.
Not arrogance.
Not anger.
May you like
Hatred.
Directed at his own father.
