Chapter 5 - An Ambush in the Rain
The appointment was set for two o'clock that afternoon. By noon, however, the gossip columns had already caught fire. A blurry photograph of Tristan leaning toward Rosalie at the gala had made the front page of the city’s entertainment blog with the headline: HOLLIS HEIR CONFRONTS MYSTERIOUS BEAUTY WEEKS BEFORE SOCIETY WEDDING OF THE DECADE.
Sabine Crowell sat in the private dining room of the Rainier Club, staring at the screen of her phone. Across from her sat Arthur Hollis, seventy-two years old, leaning heavily on a carved walnut cane. His face was weathered by decades of hostile takeovers, his gray hair trimmed with razor precision.
"He went to her house this morning, Arthur," Sabine said, her voice quiet, lethal. "My sources saw his car parked in Queen Anne. He’s looking into St. Jude Genomics."
Arthur took a measured sip of black tea. His hand remained perfectly steady. "The boy looks like him. I saw the photograph in the foundation's annual report three months ago. I had hoped Tristan wouldn't notice him at the gala."
Sabine’s jaw clenched. "You knew? And you didn't tell me?"
"I handled it three years ago, Sabine," Arthur said coldly. "And I handled it for the good of this company. A union between Hollis Hospitality and the Crowell legal empire creates a conglomerate worth twelve billion dollars. Tristan needed a partner of equal stature, someone who understands discretion, power, and legacy. He did not need a naive marketing girl from Idaho who would drag our private lives through the mud."
"If he finds out you bribed Gregory Vance to alter the amniocentesis report, he will walk away from the merger," Sabine pointed out, her voice sharpening. "He will walk away from the wedding. He will walk away from you."
Arthur set his teacup down with a sharp clink against the saucer. "He won't find out. Vance is in South America, well out of reach. And as for Rosalie... she is a mother who loves her child. Mothers can be persuaded to take a settlement and leave the state if the pressure becomes uncomfortable enough."
Meanwhile, outside Seattle Children's Hospital, the afternoon rain had turned into a steady, gray deluge. Tristan arrived early, waiting under the wide concrete portico. His phone buzzed relentlessly—six calls from Sabine, four from his father’s executive assistant. He ignored every single one.
A silver crossover pulled up to the drop-off zone. Rosalie stepped out, holding an umbrella over Leo, who was bundled in a yellow raincoat with matching rubber boots. The boy was splashing in a shallow puddle, giggling, entirely oblivious to the seismic forces colliding around his small life.
"Rosalie," Tristan called out, stepping into the rain.
Before he could reach them, a black Cadillac Escalade with tinted windows screeched to a halt behind Rosalie's car, blocking her exit. Two men in dark suits stepped out, holding umbrella shields. From the rear door emerged Arthur Hollis, leaning on his cane, his eyes cold and predatory.
Leo stopped jumping. He looked at the stern old man and instantly ducked behind Rosalie's legs, his tiny hand grabbing her jeans.
"Father?" Tristan stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here?"
Arthur didn't look at his son. He looked directly at Rosalie, his gaze sweeping over her with calculated malice. "Miss Katon. It seems we find ourselves in another unfortunate misunderstanding. I thought our agreement three years ago was abundantly clear. You were compensated to remove yourself from my family's orbit."
"I never took a single dime of your money, Mr. Hollis," Rosalie said, her voice ringing clear over the sound of the falling rain. "Your lawyers mailed three cashier’s checks to my apartment. I shredded every single one and sent the pieces back in your own stamped envelopes."
Tristan snapped his head toward his father. "What checks? You told me she demanded a five-million-dollar buyout!"
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"She is an opportunist, Tristan!" Arthur barked, his voice rising in sudden anger. "She showed up at the gala to engineer this exact confrontation! She wants to blow up the Crowell merger! Can't you see she is playing you like a child?!"
"Then let us take the test, Arthur," Rosalie said, stepping forward, shielding her son with her body. "Let the doctors take the swabs right now. If I'm an opportunist, you'll be proven right in forty-eight hours. What are you so afraid of?"
