Chapter 3 - The Predator’s Panic
Victor was sweating through his bespoke suit. He sat in the cramped office of a mid-tier PR firm, staring at the television. The news anchors were buzzing about the "Reunion of the Century." Victoria Thorne had held a press conference, formally introducing me as her sole heir.
I watched the broadcast from the comfort of the estate’s screening room. I was glowing, wearing a custom maternity gown, standing tall beside the most powerful woman in the state.
Victor’s phone on the screen buzzed. It was Chloe, his mistress.
“Victor, my credit cards are declining!” she screeched through the phone.
“Shut up, Chloe, I’m thinking!” Victor yelled back, running a hand through his hair. His offshore accounts had been frozen by federal investigators, tipped off anonymously (by Victoria’s lawyers, no doubt). His pristine reputation was in tatters.
He needed me back. Or, more accurately, he needed the baby. If he could prove he was a loving father, he could sue for child support from the Thorne empire. It was his only ticket out of ruin.
“I need a lawyer,” Victor told his PR agent. “A ruthless one. I’m going to sue for full custody. She’s mentally unstable, a victim of the foster system, traumatized by the kidnapping. I’ll paint her as an unfit mother.”
Back at the estate, Marcus played the audio recording of Victor’s conversation. He had bugged Victor’s phone the moment we left the courthouse.
I felt a cold rage settle in my chest, replacing the fear I used to harbor. I looked at Victoria.
May you like
“He wants to take my baby,” I said, my voice steady.
“He can try,” Victoria replied smoothly, handing me a cup of herbal tea. “But he’s forgetting one crucial detail, Maya. You aren’t a defenseless foster child anymore. You’re a Thorne. And Thornes do not play defense. We destroy.”
