Chapter 2 - The Hallway Standoff
The heavy double doors of the maternity ward swung open with a resounding thud.
Daniel stood in the waiting vestibule, pacing across the linoleum with his hands shoved deep into his designer trousers.
Beside him, Vanessa was reapplying her lipstick in a compact mirror, checking her reflection under the harsh lights.
"This is ridiculous," Vanessa complained, snapping the compact shut with a sharp click.
"Why are they keeping us out here? If Claire delivers tonight, you need to sign the private suite agreement before her name goes on the birth registry."
Daniel checked his gold watch, his jaw clenching with dark impatience.
"The director of patient relations is a college classmate of mine. I just texted him. We'll have her discharged to a private luxury clinic in Wellesley by dawn."
He smoothed his hair, turning toward the nurses' station with an arrogant tilt of his chin.
"I won't let her parade this little victim act around our social circle. If she mentions that lipstick stain to anyone, I'll have Dr. Evans sign an involuntary psychiatric hold."
Vanessa smiled, stepping closer to rest her hand against his bicep.
"You're so smart, Daniel. She was always too weak for you anyway. Mom and Dad never understood why you married her instead of me."
"Because seven years ago, she had the Bennett trust," Daniel muttered coldly, not looking at her.
"Now that her trust has matured and the maritime shares are ready to transfer, she's completely expendable."
Suddenly, the private elevator at the end of the corridor chimed.
The sound was accompanied by the heavy, synchronized thud of steel-toed work boots hitting the floorboards.
Four hospital security guards who had been standing near the reception desk instantly straightened up, their expressions shifting into pure panic.
Three towering men stepped out of the elevator cab.
Leading them was Thomas Bennett, thirty-eight, six-foot-four of lean muscle, wearing a heavy charcoal wool coat over a navy work shirt.
Behind him walked Marcus, the middle brother, broad-shouldered with a scar along his jaw from their days in the maritime salvage yards.
And flanking the right was Gabriel, the youngest at thirty-two, an ex-Marine sniper whose cold hazel eyes surveyed the corridor like a combat zone.
Daniel froze mid-stride, his face draining of every drop of blood until he looked like a corpse.
"Thomas...?" Daniel choked out, his voice cracking into a high, frightened squeak.
Thomas didn't speak.
May you like
He didn't slow his pace.
He walked down the center of the hallway like an oncoming freight train, his gaze locked entirely onto the man who had stolen his little sister seven years ago.
