Chapter 3 - The Red Sports Car at the OverpassI didn't shout. I didn't smash anything.
The heat of anger vanished, replaced by an absolute, glacial stillness that my boardroom adversaries feared more than lawsuits.
Victoria Vance.
Lauren’s closest sorority sister. The daughter of Vance Logistics’ chairman. The woman who had shown up at Lauren’s memorial service dressed in designer black, weeping louder than anyone, and who had spent the last fourteen months visiting my home three times a week, bringing expensive toys for the twins and offering to "take care of the broken family."
Every nanny who had quit had been recommended by Victoria.
Every report claiming the twins were "unstable and violent" had been routed through Victoria’s private pediatric consultant.
"Annie," I said, standing up. "Did Victoria come here today?"
Annie stood beside the bed, her jaw set with quiet, working-class resilience.
"She arrived at two o'clock, Mr. Morrison," Annie answered, her brown eyes unwavering. "She used her personal key. When she saw the boys were drawing in the conservatory, she snatched Justin’s sketch pad and tried to throw it down the garbage disposal. When I stopped her, she threatened to have me arrested for theft. She told me a low-class cleaner had no right to question a future Mrs. Morrison."
Annie took a deep breath, resting her hands protectively over the boys' shoulders.
"The boys were terrified. They ran into this room and locked the door. I stayed with them because they were hyperventilating. I didn't care about the rules anymore, Mr. Morrison. I just couldn't leave them alone."
I looked at this young woman—her worn shoes, her simple apron, the smudge of crayon on her cuff—and felt a wave of profound, humbling reverence wash over me.
"You did the right thing, Annie," I said, my voice rich with gratitude. "You did what I should have done fourteen months ago."
I pulled out my encrypted satellite phone and dialed a private emergency number.
"Marcus," I commanded.
May you like
"Yes, Mr. Morrison?" Marcus Stone, Chief of Intelligence and Executive Protection for Morrison Dynamics, answered on the first ring.
"Initiate Code Black. Pull the forensic vehicle telemetry archives for Lauren’s vehicle from the New York State Police impound. And bring our tactical security detail to the manor right now."
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