Chapter 3 - The Tribeca Sanctuary
The private elevator clicked smoothly as it reached the top floor of the residential building in Tribeca, opening directly into the foyer of my private penthouse suite.
The apartment was dark, silent, and warm. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping, panoramic view of the rain-slicked Manhattan skyline, but the city outside felt miles away from the quiet sanctuary inside.
I pushed the heavy double stroller out of the elevator foyer and onto the wide plank oak floors of the living room.
Ruby stepped out behind me, holding her small canvas tote bag tightly against her chest. She looked around the expansive, high-ceilinged space with wide, hesitant eyes, her muddy shoes hovering nervously near the edge of the entryway rug.
"Take off your shoes, Ruby," I said softly, stepping past her to turn on the low, warm ambient lamps along the perimeter of the room. "And give me your coat. It’s soaked."
She hesitated for a second before slipping off her worn, muddy sneakers and setting them by the door. I walked over, gently helping her slide the wet green parka off her narrow shoulders. Her frame was so small, so fragile under the baggy gray sweatshirt she wore beneath it.
"I’ll get some towels," I said, rushing toward the linen closet near the master bathroom.
I returned ten seconds later with three large, plush white bath towels. I gently draped one around Ruby’s shoulders, then knelt down beside the stroller.
My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird as I carefully unzipped the blue rain shield and removed it completely, tossing it onto the hardwood floor.
Inside, the two babies were awake now.
The little boy—the one with the dark hair—was kicking his feet against the yellow fleece blanket, making small, soft cooing sounds. The little girl beside him had wide, hazel eyes identical to Ruby’s, staring up at me with quiet, calm intense focus.
My hands shook violently as I reached down toward them.
"May I?" I asked, looking up at Ruby, my voice choked with an overwhelming wave of emotion.
Ruby stood above us, her towel wrapped around her shoulders, her eyes shining with fresh tears as she nodded slowly. "Their names are Leo and Maya," she whispered. "Leo is older by four minutes."
Leo and Maya.
The names resonated through my very soul.
I reached down, carefully sliding my large hands beneath Leo’s tiny back and thighs, lifting him out of the stroller. He was light—so light—and warm against my rain-soaked suit jacket. I pulled him up against my chest, supporting his small neck with my palm. He let out a soft sigh, resting his tiny cheek directly against my lapel, his small fist reaching out to grab the edge of my silk tie.
A sob tore out of my throat before I could stop it.
I buried my face in his soft, sweet baby hair, smelling the innocent scent of baby lotion and rain. I had missed his first breath. I had missed his first smile. I had missed his first time rolling over. Ten months of his life had passed while I was sitting in sterile corporate boardrooms, attending superficial parties, and pretending to love a woman who cared more about wedding flowers than my soul.
"I'm sorry," I sobbed into his tiny shoulder, tears dripping freely onto his knitted cap. "I'm so sorry, Leo. Daddy’s here. I’m so sorry..."
Ruby dropped to her knees beside me on the floor, lifting Maya out of the stroller and holding her close against her chest. Maya let out a small, sleepy whine, burying her little face into Ruby’s neck.
We sat together on the hardwood floor of the quiet penthouse for what felt like an eternity—a broken father, a terrified mother, and two innocent babies who had been born into the middle of a corporate war zone.
After a long time, when my tears finally subsided and Leo had fallen fast asleep against my chest, I carefully laid him down on the plush velvet sofa, propping pillows around him so he wouldn't roll off. Ruby laid Maya beside him, carefully covering both of them with one of the dry bath towels.
I stood up, walking into the kitchen to pour two glasses of warm water. I brought one back to Ruby, handing it to her as she sat on the edge of the sofa near the sleeping babies.
She took the glass with trembling hands, taking a small sip before looking up at me.
"What happens now, Max?" she asked quietly, her voice laced with absolute exhaustion. "Your father... Genevieve... they aren't going to just let this go. Genevieve’s family owns twenty-five percent of Sterling Global's stock. If you break the engagement, your father will ruin you."
I sat down in the armchair across from her, leaning forward with my elbows resting on my knees, my hands clasped tightly together.
"Let him try," I said, my voice cold, hard, and devoid of any lingering doubt. "Sterling Global isn't just his creation. I ran the international logistics restructuring for the last four years. I hold thirty percent of the voting equity through my mother’s trust. If Arthur tries to strip my executive position, he needs a two-thirds majority vote from the board."
"And Genevieve’s father has twenty-five percent," Ruby reminded me, her eyes filled with deep worry. "That gives them fifty-five percent together. They can outvote you."
"Only if the rest of the institutional board members go along with them," I said, a dark, calculating smile touching the corner of my lips. "And the institutional investors only care about one thing: stock valuation. If I release evidence that Arthur Sterling used company security personnel and corporate funds to stalk, threaten, and blackmail a private citizen to cover up his own grandchildren... the scandal will send Sterling Global’s stock into a free fall."
Ruby gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth. "Max... you would expose your own family's company?"
"My family is sitting on that couch, Ruby," I said, looking directly into her eyes with an intensity that made her breath catch. "Arthur Sterling ceased to be my family the moment he threatened my children."
Before she could respond, my phone in my pocket began to vibrate furiously once again.
I pulled it out.
It wasn't a call this time. It was a picture message from an unknown number.
I tapped the screen to open the image.
My blood turned to pure, icy frost.
The photo showed the exterior of the building we were currently sitting in. Taken from across the street through a rain-slicked car window, the camera was zoomed in directly on the illuminated windows of my penthouse floor.
May you like
Below the photo was a single text message from Genevieve:
I followed your car from the crosswalk, Maxwell. I know she’s in there with you. Your father is on his way up to the building right now with security. You have five minutes to bring those bastards downstairs, or we burn everything you own to the ground.
