Chapter 4 - Landing in Paradise
While we were dismantling his life in Manhattan, Delta Flight 1449 was making its final descent over Biscayne Bay.
Nathan Prescott adjusted his silk tie in the tiny lavatory mirror, smoothing his dark hair, splashing cool water on his face, and grinning at his reflection.
He felt invincible.
He had pulled off the greatest heist of his life.
He had left his naive, trusting wife crying at JFK, believing he was off on a sacrificial corporate assignment. In reality, he was twenty minutes away from stepping into the arms of his gorgeous, pregnant mistress and walking into a multi-million-dollar oceanfront penthouse paid for by his wife's dead grandmother.
When the aircraft touched down at Miami International, Nathan grabbed his leather carry-on and strode down the jetway with the swagger of a conqueror.
The warm, humid Florida air hit his face like a tropical cocktail.
He pulled out his phone, switched off airplane mode, and waited for the screen to light up with messages from Brooke.
Baby, I'm waiting near baggage carousel four! I'm wearing the white linen sundress you love!
Nathan chuckled, slipping his phone into his breast pocket. He bypassed the ordinary travelers, heading down the escalator toward the luggage claim with an arrogant bounce in his step.
Standing near carousel four was Brooke Ellery.
Her blonde hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, her small, round baby bump gently outlined beneath a flowing white designer sundress.
When she saw Nathan, her face lit up, and she rushed forward, throwing her arms around his neck, kissing him passionately in front of hundreds of vacationers.
"You're finally here!" Brooke beamed, pressing his hand against her stomach. "Leo kicked twice while you were in the air! He knew his daddy was coming!"
"I told you I'd take care of everything, sweetheart," Nathan smiled, kissing her lips again, drinking in the adulation. "Toronto is a memory. New York is a memory. From today on, we live like royalty."
He reached down to pick up her small canvas tote bag. "Let's grab a private car and head straight to the Continuum. I ordered champagne and fresh oysters to be waiting in the penthouse."
As they turned toward the sliding glass exit doors leading to the valet curb, two men in dark gray tropical suits stepped into their path.
"Mr. Nathan Prescott?" the taller man asked, holding up a laminated identification badge.
Nathan frowned, his upper-class arrogance instantly flaring up. "Yes. What is this? If you're airport security, I have nothing to declare."
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The second man pulled a thick stack of blue-backed legal documents from an accordion folder and pressed them firmly against Nathan's chest.
"You are formally served, Mr. Prescott," the process server stated in a loud, monotone voice that drew the stares of twenty passing travelers. "By order of the Supreme Court of the State of New York, an emergency freeze has been placed on all accounts, assets, and properties associated with you and Breeze Harbor Holdings."
