Chapter 1 - The Crest on the Onyx Ring
The grand elevator doors of the Hargrove Grand penthouse hissed open with a sharp, pneumatic tone.
Four men in charcoal-tailored suits stepped into the private foyer, surrounding a tall figure wrapped in a long wool overcoat.
Gabriel Vance.
The man who owned three shipping fleets, half of Chicago’s commercial real estate, and the private equity firm that held ninety percent of Preston Hargrove’s bank debt.
Preston turned from the kneeling woman, his face immediately smoothing into an obsequious, welcoming smile.
“Mr. Vance!” Preston exclaimed, stepping over the broken glass, extending his right hand. “I wasn’t expecting you until midnight. The financial report for the third quarter is ready in my study.”
Gabriel didn’t take his hand.
His dark gray eyes, cold as Lake Michigan in December, moved past Preston and landed directly on the floor.
On the pale, trembling woman clutching her stomach.
Gabriel froze.
For a second, the absolute stillness in the penthouse was terrifying.
Mara looked up through tears, her vision blurred, her body shaking from the sharp pain in her lower abdomen.
Her hand was raised, instinctively covering the black ring hanging from her neck chain.
Gabriel’s eyes locked onto her fingers, then shifted to the small silver crest exposed between her knuckles—a wolf beneath three stars.
His face turned to stone.
“Gabriel...” Mara whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of rain beating against the glass.
Preston laughed nervously, attempting to step between them. “Mr. Vance, please excuse the mess. One of our temporary housekeepers had a minor incident. I was just instructing her to leave—”
Gabriel moved so fast Preston didn attacking him.
With one hand, Gabriel grabbed Preston by the front of his silk shirt collar, slamming him backward into the mahogany dining table. Crystal glasses shattered on impact, echoing like gunshots across the room.
“Mr. Vance!” Preston gasped, his face turning red as his feet dangled inches off the marble floor. “What... what are you doing?!”
Gabriel’s voice dropped into a pitch so deep and quiet that even his own bodyguards stepped back.
“If you touch her again,” Gabriel said, “I will dismantle every corporation bearing your name before sunrise.”
Gabriel released his grip. Preston collapsed onto his knees among the shattered glass, gasping for air, terror in his eyes.
Gabriel immediately dropped down beside Mara.
His large, scarred hands—the hands Mara had held seven months ago in a snowbound hotel room—were trembling as he gathered her into his arms.
“Mara,” Gabriel whispered, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. He pulled off his wool coat, wrapping it securely around her shivering shoulders. “Look at me, Mara.”
Mara looked into his eyes, her hand gripping his sleeve tightly. “The baby... Gabriel, something’s wrong... I’m bleeding.”
Gabriel turned his head toward his chief security officer.
“Clear Northwestern Memorial,” Gabriel commanded, his voice turning into iron. “I want the chief of obstetrics at the ER entrance in ten minutes. If there’s a single red light on the way, take the city convoy.”
“Yes, Mr. Vance!” the security officer yelled, pulling out his encrypted phone as he sprinted for the elevator.
Gabriel lifted Mara gently into his arms, holding her close against his chest as if she were made of fragile glass.
As he walked past Preston, who was still trembling on the floor, Gabriel didn’t even look down.
“Marco,” Gabriel said to his remaining security guard.
May you like
“Sir?”
“Lock the doors. Nobody leaves this floor until my legal team arrives.”
