Chapter 6
The factory was dark.
Cold.
It smelled like rust and old oil and fear.
A single bare bulb hung from the ceiling in the middle of the huge open space.
Under it, tied to chairs, were my father and my three boys.
The boys were crying.
Soft, terrified little sobs that broke my heart into a million pieces.
My dad was beaten.
Bloody.
Unconscious.
But alive.
Thank God, alive.
Helen stepped into the light.
She was holding a gun.
A small black revolver.
She pointed it at one of the boys.
“Close the door, Adrian,” she said.
My blood ran cold.
Adrian stepped out of the shadows behind me.
He closed the door.
And locked it.
He looked at me.
His face was empty.
No remorse.
No fear.
Nothing.
“You thought I’d choose you?” he said, laughing softly. “She’s my mother, Evelyn. Family is family. You were always just an outsider. Always.”
I stared at him.
Of course.
I’d been an idiot to trust him.
To think he’d ever choose his own children over his mother.
He was just like her.
Always had been.
Always would be.
“Smart boy,” Helen said, smiling. “Now, Evelyn. The papers.”
I held them out.
“Let them go first,” I said. “Then you get the papers.”
She laughed.
“You really are stupid, aren’t you? I have the gun. I have the hostages. I make the rules here. You give me the papers. Then I decide who lives and who dies. That’s how this works.”
She waved the gun at me.
“Now. Slide them across the floor. Slowly. Any sudden moves… the baby dies first.”
I slid the papers across the concrete.
She picked them up with her free hand.
She flipped through them.
Her smile grew.
“Perfect,” she said. “Langford is mine. Again. Everything I built. Everything you took. It’s all coming back.”
She looked at Adrian.
“Call the lawyer. Tell him to file these first thing in the morning.”
Adrian pulled out his phone.
He dialed.
And then he froze.
His face went white.
“Mom,” he said. “These… these aren’t right. The signature. It’s not hers. These are fake.”
Helen’s head snapped toward me.
Her eyes blazed.
“Fake?” she whispered. “You dare come in here with fake papers? You think this is a game?”
She raised the gun.
She pointed it straight at my chest.
“I should kill you right now,” she said. “Slowly. Make you watch while I kill them one by one first. Make you suffer like I’ve suffered.”
She paused.
A terrible idea crossed her face.
“Actually,” she said, smiling again. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
She turned the gun toward the boys.
“Which one first?” she said. “The oldest? He looks the most like you. It’ll hurt the most to watch him go.”
My heart stopped.
“No!” I screamed. “Helen, wait! Please! Take me instead! Kill me! Let them go! They’re babies! They didn’t do anything!”
“Exactly,” she said. “They’re yours. That’s enough.”
She put her finger on the trigger.
And then all hell broke loose.
The windows exploded inward.
The doors blew off their hinges.
Flashbangs went off.
Bright light.
Deafening noise.
Marcus and his team poured in from every direction.
“GET DOWN!” Marcus screamed.
I threw myself to the floor.
Gunshots rang out.
Two.
Three.
I crawled toward the boys.
I had to get to them.
I had to protect them.
Strong hands grabbed me and pulled me behind a concrete pillar.
Marcus.
“Stay down!” he yelled. “We’ve got them!”
It was over in thirty seconds.
Thirty seconds that felt like thirty years.
When the noise stopped, I stood up.
Shaking.
Blind with fear.
Helen was on the floor.
Shot in the shoulder.
Screaming in pain and rage.
Adrian was on his knees, hands cuffed behind his back, sobbing.
My dad was still unconscious, but the medics were already working on him.
And the boys?
One of the nurses was holding them.
All three.
Crying.
Scared.
Alive.
I ran to them.
I took them one by one.
I held them so tight I was afraid I’d break them.
They were here.
They were mine.
They were safe.
The police arrived ten minutes later.
They took Helen away on a stretcher, screaming threats the whole way.
They took Adrian away in cuffs.
He looked at me as they led him past.
“I’m sorry,” he mouthed.
I didn’t look at him.
I didn’t care.
He was dead to me.
My dad was taken to the hospital.
He had a concussion.
Broken ribs.
But he was going to be okay.
The doctors said he’d make a full recovery.
I sat in the hospital waiting room that night, holding all three boys, while my mom slept in the chair beside me.
The sun came up.
A new day.
A new beginning.
It should have been over.
Helen was in jail.
Adrian was in jail.
Langford was mine.
The boys were safe.
My dad was alive.
We’d won.
But as I sat there, watching the sun rise, my phone buzzed.
A news alert.
HELEN HALE RELEASED ON BAIL.
I stared.
Impossible.
She was facing kidnapping.
Attempted murder.
Weapons charges.
A dozen other felonies.
No judge would grant bail.
No judge in the world.
I called Richard, our lead lawyer.
He answered on the first ring.
He sounded tired.
Defeated.
“Richard,” I said. “Explain. Now.”
“I don’t know how,” he said. “I really don’t. She has a new lawyer. Someone from out of state. Very connected. Very good. He presented evidence to the judge that we haven’t even seen. Witness statements. Alibis. He made it sound like she was the victim. Like you’d set the whole thing up. The judge ate it up. Bail was set at five million. She paid it in cash ten minutes ago. She’s out, Evelyn. And she’s already talking to the press.”
He paused.
“She’s saying you kidnapped your own children and framed her. That the whole thing was a publicity stunt to destroy her and gain sympathy in the custody battle. And people are believing her. Half the country already thinks you’re capable of anything. This is just one more lie they’re willing to buy.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Of course she’d find a way out.
Helen Hale didn’t go to jail.
Not for long.
Not when she still had friends in high places.
Not when she still had secrets on half the powerful people in the country.
I looked down at my boys.
They were sleeping peacefully in my arms.
Blissfully unaware that the monster who’d taken them was already free.
“Okay,” I said quietly. “Thank you, Richard. Get the team together. We fight this. Every lie. Every leak. Every fake witness. We don’t stop. Not ever. Not until she’s in a cell so deep she’ll never see the sun again.”
I hung up.
I stood up.
I carried the boys toward the exit.
My mom woke up and followed.
Outside, the press was already there.
Dozens of them.
Cameras.
Microphones.
Shouting questions.
And standing at the front of the crowd, arm in arm with her new lawyer, smiling like she hadn’t a care in the world?
Helen.
Her arm in a sling.
Perfect makeup.
A small, sad smile on her face for the cameras.
She saw me.
Our eyes met across the sea of people.
She mouthed two words.
I’m back.
And then she turned to the cameras.
And she began to speak.
Lies.
Beautiful, terrible, believable lies.
And the cameras ate it up.
May you like
The war wasn’t over.
It had barely even started.
