Chapter 3 - Blood Against Blood
Richard Whitaker had spent his entire life living in the shadow of my success.
When our father passed away two years ago, he left ninety percent of Whitaker Global Logistics to me, naming Zion as the primary successor should anything happen to my line.
Richard had smiled at the reading of the will, shaking my hand and raising a glass of scotch to his baby nephew.
Now, staring at the offshore bank transfers stamped with his personal corporation seal, the terrifying puzzle finally came together.
"He's been paying Margaret ten thousand dollars a week," Detective Hayes pointed out, showing me the digital wire slips.
"The tranquilizer is tasteless and absorbs through infant skin slowly. It mimics sudden infant death syndrome. No bruises. No broken bones. An autopsy would have written it off as natural respiratory arrest."
My stomach churned with violent disgust.
If Zion had died, the company trust would have defaulted straight to Richard within thirty business days.
"Find my brother," I ordered, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"He boarded a private charter flight to Miami two hours ago," Hayes answered grimly. "Federal marshals are waiting on the tarmac to intercept him the moment the wheels touch down."
"And Margaret?"
"Her phone went dead near the industrial canal ten miles south. We have patrol units sweeping the docks."
I turned my back on the nursery, unable to bear the sight of Zion's empty crib.
"I don't care about the money, Hayes. I don't care about the company. I need to find Emily."
"Why the housemaid?" Hayes asked, raising an eyebrow.
May you like
"Because she risked her livelihood to save my son while I treated her like dirt under my shoes," I said, the bitter taste of shame burning my tongue.
I grabbed my keys and ran out into the pouring rain, desperate to undo the greatest mistake of my life.
