Chapter 7 - What My Wife Never Told Me
I hung up the phone and looked at Jessi.
"Julian is coming here," I said flatly. "He's coming with armed private security and a fraudulent court order to take Fiona."
Jessi gasped, jumping to her feet. "No! We have to run! We have to take Fiona and leave!"
"We don't run from criminals in our own home," I said firmly, grabbing Jessi's shoulders and looking deeply into her eyes. "Listen to me, Jessi. The only way we end this nightmare permanently is to destroy Julian's legal lie once and for all. Where are Fiona's original, certified birth records and the umbilical cord blood samples we stored at Greenwich Hospital when she was born?"
Jessi's eyes widened. "The hospital cryogenic vault! We stored her neonatal stem cells and verified genetic tissue right after delivery!"
"Exactly," I said. "Those neonatal samples were sealed by state hospital pathologists seven years ago. They are completely tamper-proof and legally undeniable in any federal court in the world. But Julian's team is trying to snatch Fiona before we can present that proof to a judge."
I immediately hit the intercom button on the wall. "Maria, bring Fiona down to the panic room in the basement. Lock the reinforced vault door. Do not open it for anyone except me or Marcus. Go. Now."
Within three minutes, Maria had Fiona secured in the subterranean concrete shelter beneath the wine cellar.
Outside, the heavy rain began to pour, drumming relentlessly against the panoramic windows. The estate's perimeter motion sensors suddenly tripped with a series of sharp, rhythmic beeps on my security console.
Gate Breach - North Perimeter.
Gate Breach - South Driveway.
Two heavy black Cadillac Escalades smashed straight through the estate’s wrought-iron security gates, their high beams cutting through the torrential downpour as they tore up the gravel driveway.
They screeched to a halt directly in front of the main portico.
Four men in tactical black suits stepped out, brandishing sidearms, followed by an attorney in an expensive trench coat holding a thick leather binder.
And then, stepping out of the lead vehicle with an arrogant, triumphant swagger, was Julian Sterling.
He looked up at the front doors, adjusting his silk tie, completely unbothered by the rain. He walked up the stone steps as if he owned the estate, pounding the heavy brass door knocker three times.
"Open up, David!" Julian’s smooth, mocking voice echoed through the reinforced wood. "I'm here to collect my daughter!"
Jessi stood behind me, trembling with pure fury, her fists clenched so tightly her fingernails bit into her palms. "Let me speak to him," she whispered.
"Jessi, stay back," I warned.
"No," Jessi said, her voice suddenly devoid of tears, replaced by an icy, lethal resolve I had never seen in her before. "He ruined eight years of my life. He tortured my child. I am going to look that monster in the eye."
I unlocked the heavy deadbolts, pulled the double doors open, and stepped out onto the sheltered portico, with Jessi standing firmly at my side.
Julian smiled, his piercing blue eyes sweeping over Jessi with disgusting familiarity. "Hello, darling. You look breathtaking. It’s been far too long."
"You disgust me, Julian," Jessi said, her voice cutting like a razor. "You are a cowardly, pathetic parasite who faked your own death to run from bookies, and now you crawl back like a rat to steal my child."
Julian’s smile vanished, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. "Careful, Jessi. The Fairfield County Family Court has declared me the presumptive biological father. I have an emergency custody order signed by a judge. Hand Fiona over right now, or my private security team will enter this house and take her by force."
"You won't take a single step inside this house," I said, stepping forward until I was inches from Julian's chest. "Your court order was obtained through forged documents and bribed private labs. In less than six hours, Greenwich Hospital's certified neonatal genetic records will be unsealed before a federal magistrate. Your fraud will be completely obliterated, Julian. You won't get ninety million dollars. You're going to spend the rest of your pathetic life in a federal penitentiary."
Julian let out a low, sinister chuckle. He leaned in, his breath cold against my ear.
"You think you're going to make it to that federal courthouse, David?" Julian whispered. "Look down at your driveway."
I looked past Julian's shoulder.
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Two more unmarked vans had pulled up behind Julian's Escalades, completely blocking the estate exit. Ten heavily armed private contractors with assault rifles stepped out into the rain, surrounding the house in a tactical perimeter.
"You might have the billions, Vance," Julian sneered, pulling a suppressed pistol from inside his coat. "But out here in the dark... I have the guns. Now, tell me where the panic room is, or I execute you and Jessi right here on your own front porch."
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