Chapter 4 - Ambush at the Academy
At two in the afternoon, my phone buzzed with an automated alert from the elite Manhattan Day Academy where Leo, Maya, and Noah attended preschool. It was a security notification: An unauthorized individual is attempting to sign out your children.
My blood ran ice cold. I grabbed my purse, didn't even grab my coat, and sprinted out of my office, shouting for Sarah to cancel my afternoon meetings. I broke every speed limit driving up the West Side Highway, my knuckles turning white against the steering wheel. If Julian or his family dared to traumatize my kids at their school, I would burn Manhattan to the ground.
When I screeched to a halt in front of the brick building, I saw the familiar, intimidating black Maybach parked in the loading zone. Two private security guards stood near the vehicle. I stormed past them and pushed open the heavy double doors of the academy, marching straight into the administration office.
There, standing by the reception desk, was Julian. He was arguing with the school's headmistress, Mrs. Gable, who stood like a fortress in front of the door leading to the classrooms.
"Mr. Vance, I don't care if you own half the real estate in this zip code," Mrs. Gable was saying, her voice trembling but firm. "Your name is not on the emergency pickup list. You have no legal rights to these children without a court order."
"I am their father!" Julian barked, slamming his palm on the reception desk.
"Get away from her, Julian!" I shouted, my voice echoing off the high ceilings as I closed the distance between us.
He spun around, his anger momentarily vanishing as he looked at me. "Clara, I just want to see them. I want to talk to my sons and my daughter."
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"They are not your property to inspect!" I stepped between him and the classroom corridor, squaring my shoulders. "You do not get to storm into their safe space and terrify their teachers because your ego is bruised. You want to know them? You earn it through respect, not by acting like a corporate bully."
Just then, the classroom door nudged open, and little Noah peeked out, holding a paint-covered paintbrush. He looked at Julian, his brow furrowing in that exact, unmistakable Vance expression. "Are you the man from the restaurant? Why are you yelling at my mommy?"
