Chapter 3 - The Shield of Wealth
When I unlocked the door and stepped back into the suite, the silence was thick. Anna was sitting on the edge of the bed, her arms wrapped around herself, rocking slightly. The moment she saw me, she stood up, her breath catching.
“They’re gone,” I said simply.
She let out a ragged sob, covering her mouth to muffle the sound. She sank to her knees right there on the rug, her shoulders shaking. I walked over to her, hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then extended a hand.
“Get up, Anna,” I said gently. “The floor is cold.”
She took my hand, her fingers small and icy against mine. I helped her to her feet and guided her to the plush armchair near the window.
“They won’t come back tonight,” I continued, leaning against the edge of the mahogany desk. “But your ex-husband isn’t going to stop. If he’s tracking you this closely, he has someone inside the hotel or he’s tracking your phone.”
Anna’s eyes widened in realization. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a cheap, cracked smartphone. “I... I turned the location services off, but...”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, taking the phone from her hand. I dropped it into a glass of water on the desk. It bubbled once and went dark. “We will get you a new one tomorrow. For now, you are off the grid.”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice trembling. “You don't know me. I’m just... I clean your rooms. I violated your trust.”
“You did what you had to do to keep your kids safe,” I replied, looking toward the bed where Sophia had rolled over, her small hand now resting on her brother’s back. “My mother did the same for me. I’m not about to let a bully with a checkbook tear your family apart.”
But I knew this suite wasn’t a long-term solution. The Wellington Grand was too public. Housekeeping staff, room service, and security guards were constantly moving through the building. If Vance was determined, he would find someone to bribe.
I picked up the landline phone on the desk and dialed a private number I rarely used outside of emergencies.
“Julian,” I said when the call connected. “I need the Hampton estate opened. Tonight. Have a car parked in the basement loading dock of the Wellington in fifteen minutes. I want the driver to be someone from your personal roster. No logs, no records.”
“Right away, Mr. Martin,” my personal assistant replied, not asking a single question. He was paid a seven-figure salary to ensure my life ran smoothly, no matter how bizarre my requests.
I hung up and turned back to Anna. “Pack their things. We’re leaving.”
“Where are we going?” she asked, her eyes wide with apprehension.
“To a place where Arthur Vance’s money means absolutely nothing,” I said. “To my home.”
Within ten minutes, the twins were gently awakened. I expected them to cry, to scream, to reject the strange man standing in their room. But Samuel merely blinked sleepily, rubbing his eyes with his fist, while Sophia looked at me with curiosity.
“Are you a giant?” she whispered, her voice tiny and sweet.
I felt a strange, unfamiliar warmth bloom in my chest. I offered her a small, rare smile. “Not a giant, Sophia. Just someone who’s going to help your mom.”
I carried Samuel, who was surprisingly light, his head dropping onto my shoulder as if he had known me his entire life. Anna carried Sophia and their single, battered backpack. We took the service elevator straight down to the subterranean garage, avoiding the lobby entirely.
A sleek, black SUV with tinted windows was idling in the shadows. The driver, a trusted ex-military guard named Frank, opened the door without a word. We climbed into the back, the heavy doors sealing us off from the noise of the city.
As the car pulled out into the cool Manhattan night, Anna looked out the window at the towering skyscrapers fading into the distance. For the first time in what looked like years, she let out a long, slow breath.
May you like
“Thank you, Michael,” she whispered.
It was the first time she had used my first name. It sounded far better than "Mr. Martin."
