Chapter 5 - The Hunt for Sarah
By 1:00 PM, I was sitting in the back of a blacked-out SUV parked in an alley three blocks from the corporate tower.
Beside me sat Drake, a private intelligence operative and former military contractor whom I had trusted with my life during my years working overseas. Drake’s face was covered in small faint scars, and his eyes were as unreadable as river stones.
On the laptop mounted between us, Drake had pulled up satellite tracking data and encrypted phone records.
"Richard wasn't completely lying," Drake said, tapping a red key on his keyboard. "Your father did initiate a corporate fraud case against Sarah Linwood in 2019. But the evidence was completely fabricated by Victoria’s legal team before your father even married her. They laid the trap years ago."
"Where is she now?" I asked, watching the cursor blink over a map of upstate New York.
"A small town called Cold Spring, about fifty miles north of Manhattan," Drake replied. "She’s living under the alias 'Claire Miller.' Works as an art restorer in a quiet gallery. But here’s the kicker, Julian..."
Drake pulled up a high-resolution surveillance photo taken forty-eight hours ago outside the gallery.
In the photo stood a woman in a simple beige coat. She had long chestnut hair, pale skin, and striking, bright blue eyes—the exact blue eyes Isabella had inherited.
My heart hammered against my ribs. It was her. The woman I had loved in secret during my early twenties before my father forcefully separated us, claiming she had taken a multi-million-dollar payout to abandon our unborn child. It had all been a monstrous lie engineered by my family and Victoria.
"Is she safe?" I asked, my voice thick with emotion.
"No," Drake said bluntly. "Look at the background of the photo."
He zoomed in on a black sedan parked across the street from the art gallery. Through the tinted windshield, two men in dark jackets were visible.
"Victoria has had a round-the-clock tail on Sarah for six years," Drake explained. "The moment Sarah steps out of line, or the moment Victoria gives the order, those goons are instructed to frame Sarah for a violent crime or make her disappear permanently. She’s essentially a hostage in plain sight."
"And if Victoria realizes I know the truth..."
"She’ll order the hit on Sarah to close the loop on the trust," Drake finished my sentence. "If Sarah dies, and Isabella is rendered incapacitated or dies... Victoria becomes the sole legal executor of the Thorne estate through the secondary marriage clause."
I looked at the photograph of Sarah. She looked older, tired, but there was a quiet resilience in her posture. She had survived seven years of exile, believing her daughter was lost to her, while living under the constant threat of a sniper’s bullet.
"Drake," I said, my voice hardening into iron. "Assemble a team. We’re going to New York tonight."
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"And what about your wife?" Drake asked, pulling a tactical sidearm from under his seat and checking the magazine. "She still thinks you’re playing defense."
"Let her think that," I replied coldly. "Tell my house staff I’m staying at a hotel near the hospital to be with Isabella. Let Victoria prepare her trap for Thursday's board meeting. We’re going to give her a show she’ll never forget."
