Chapter 7
407words
Walter burst in, his typically composed demeanor shattered.
"Miss, the school just called.
The Reynolds have taken Emma."
The car keys slipped from my suddenly numb fingers, clattering against marble as ice flooded my veins.
"Where was our security?"
Father's voice hardened dangerously.
"They presented the custody clause from the divorce agreement, claiming paternal rights.
School officials were legally powerless..."
My phone illuminated with an incoming video from Margaret Reynolds.
Emma's terrified sobs pierced my heart the instant I opened it.
"Mommy, I want Mommy..."
Margaret's cruel voice provided background commentary:
"Stop that crying! Your mother abandoned you for another man—she doesn't want you anymore!"
The video ended abruptly.
A voice message followed immediately.
Margaret Reynolds' voice emerged, venomous and triumphant:
"Olivia Blackwood! If you ever want to see Emma again, you'll meet us at the Civil Affairs Bureau tomorrow morning to remarry Ethan!
Otherwise, you'll never see your precious daughter again! I promise you that!"
My hands trembled violently, barely maintaining grip on the phone.
With deliberate effort, I steadied myself, activated recording, and returned her call.
When she answered, I affected desperate, tearful panic:
"Please don't harm Emma!
I'll do anything you ask! Anything at all!"
Margaret's triumphant laughter echoed through the speaker:
"Excellent! Tomorrow at ten sharp, Civil Affairs Bureau entrance!
If you're late or bring anyone, we'll abandon the brat on the highway!
If she gets hit by a truck, her blood is on your hands!"
"I'll be there! Alone! Just don't hurt my baby!"
I maintained my performance of hysterical desperation.
The call disconnected as I stopped the recording.
I looked up, all pretense of vulnerability vanishing from my expression.
"Father, we have the evidence we need."
I passed my phone to Walter. "Contact the authorities immediately."
Staring into the darkness beyond the window, I enunciated each word precisely:
"Tomorrow, I will personally ensure they never see freedom again."
Father approached, his steady hand gripping my shoulder.
"I've prepared the funds you might need.
Two hundred million, immediately accessible."
His voice remained unwavering,
"Though I suspect you have no intention of paying ransom."
I nodded once.
Approval and cold determination flashed in his eyes:
"Proceed as you see fit.
If consequences come, I'll shield you from them.
They've threatened my granddaughter—they'll pay with everything they have!"
The time had come for them to face the full consequences of their actions.
