Chapter 7 - The Secret Beneath the Floorboards
“Judge Sterling signed an emergency warrant at 7:00 AM on a Saturday?” Edward asked, his voice dangerously smooth as he walked slowly toward Marcus Vance.
“Judge Sterling is a very close friend of Arthur Cole,” Vance replied smugly, holding out the paper. “You can argue jurisdiction downtown on Monday morning, Mr. Drummond. Right now, hand over the child, or these officers will arrest you for harboring a kidnapped infant and obstructing justice.”
The two municipal officers looked uneasy, shifting their weight from foot to foot as they recognized the legendary titan standing before them. They knew who paid for half the police department’s community outreach programs in Boston. They knew who owned the mortgage on the precinct house.
“Step outside, gentlemen,” Edward said quietly to the two cops, ignoring Vance entirely.
“Mr. Drummond, we have a warrant—” one officer started nervously.
“Step. Outside,” Edward repeated, his voice dropping an octave.
Calvin Brooks stepped up beside Edward, his jacket parting just enough to reveal the matte-black grip of his service weapon and a federal badge that carried more weight than any municipal judge in Massachusetts.
The two officers exchanged a single glance, took two steps backward into the hallway, and pulled the heavy door shut behind them, leaving Marcus Vance standing alone in the center of the room.
Vance’s smug smile vanished. “Now wait a minute—you can't intimidate law enforcement—!”
“Law enforcement left,” Edward said. He closed the distance between them with terrifying speed, grabbed Vance by the lapels of his designer suit, and slammed him against the reinforced drywall with enough force to rattle the medical monitors.
“You—” Vance gasped, his breath knocked out of his lungs.
“Listen to me very carefully, you corporate rat,” Edward whispered into Vance’s ear, his voice like grinding ice. “You and Arthur Cole thought you could bury my sister, steal her land trust, and intimidate a dying woman. You thought you could terrorize my nephew on my own porch.”
Edward reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his encrypted satellite phone, and tapped the speaker button.
“Calvin, broadcast the financial audit files to the U.S. Attorney’s office in Boston and the Boston Globe investigative desk. Include the wire transfers from Cole Enterprises to Judge Sterling’s offshore accounts.”
“Done, Mr. Drummond,” Calvin’s voice crackled through the phone.
Vance went completely gray. “You... you can’t do that. That’s confidential—!”
“It was confidential when it was inside your servers,” Edward said, releasing Vance with a shove that sent the security chief sprawling onto the linoleum floor. “Now it’s front-page news. Get up. Walk out of this hospital. And tell Arthur Cole that if he ever breathes near Sophia, my nephew, or this estate again, I won't just ruin his company—I’ll take the clothes off his back and leave him in the gutter where he belongs.”
Vance scrambled to his feet, terrified, and bolted out the door without looking back.
Edward turned back to the bed. Martha was smiling weakly, her hand resting over her heart.
May you like
“You really are your father’s son,” Martha whispered. “Except you have a heart beating underneath the stone.”
“No,” Edward said softly, walking over and resting his hand gently over Sophia’s small shoulder. “My father built a tomb. I’m finally going to build a home.”
