Chapter 2 - The Eighty-Million-Dollar Disappearance
Dominic closed the distance between the altar and the back of the cathedral in long, desperate strides, his eyes darting frantically between Maya’s gaunt face and the three little boys clinging to her. The air in the cathedral grew heavy, thick with the scent of lilies and the palpable shock of hundreds of onlookers.
“How old are they?” Dominic demanded, his voice trembling as he stopped just inches away from Maya. He reached out a hand, hovering over Samuel’s tiny, burning shoulder, terrified to touch them in case they vanished like a mirage.
“Three,” Maya answered flatly, her voice devoid of warmth, hardened by years of surviving in the shadows while he lived in luxury.
Dominic’s face drained of all color, turning as white as the roses framing the altar. His breath hitched in his throat. “Are they mine?”
Every rehearsed speech, every angry retort, and every tear Maya had bottled up for thirty-six months evaporated the moment Samuel coughed against her collarbone. She looked straight into the eyes of the man she had once loved with everything she had, the man who had abandoned her in a cold apartment while chasing corporate dominance.
“My son inherited a rare blood disorder from your family line,” Maya said, her voice cutting through the silence like a scalpel. “I called your office fourteen times. I sent certified mail with medical reports. Yesterday, your corporate security guards threw me out onto the concrete pavement like trash.”
Dominic spun around, his head whipping toward the front pew where his father sat. His eyes were burning with a terrifying, unbridled fury. “Dad. Is this true?”
Victor Russo didn’t flinch. He adjusted his silk tie, his posture rigid. “You expect us to believe this woman crashed your wedding with three illegitimate children and no hidden agenda? She’s a professional extortionist.”
“Liar,” Maya whispered.
Before Victor could respond, Maya reached deep into the lining of her oversized coat. Instantly, four heavily armed private bodyguards near the side walls lunged forward, hands moving toward their waistbands. But Maya was faster. She pulled out a sleek, matte-black metallic card embossed with platinum lettering and held it up for the entire cathedral to see.
May you like
For the first time in his ruthless, calculated life, Victor Russo’s face twisted in genuine fear.
“The eighty million dollars is still sitting in the account,” Maya announced, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “Every single cent. Unopened. Untouched.”
