Chapter 2 - The Confrontation at the Marina
Thirty-six hours later, the afternoon sun beat down relentlessly on the luxury marina in South Beach, Miami.
Diana Harlo sat on the deck of a sixty-foot yacht, wearing oversized designer sunglasses, sipping a mimosa, and laughing with a group of wealthy socialites. In her lap was a crocodile-skin handbag purchased with the blood money of Thomas Callahan’s life insurance.
She felt entirely free. The two burdensome children were far away in Chicago, likely sitting in a state intake facility by now, forgotten.
Suddenly, the warm music playing over the yacht’s sound system cut off.
The heavy thud of leather boots echoed across the wooden dock. Four men in dark tailored suits stepped onto the deck, completely ignoring the yacht’s security guards, who were already backing away after catching a glimpse of Marco’s cold, lethal expression.
Diana sat up, pulling off her sunglasses, her face contorting into anger. “Excuse me? This is a private vessel! Who the hell do you think you—”
The crowd of socialites parted as Riker Steel stepped onto the deck.
He wore a dark linen suit, his platinum hair slicked back, the gold cross shining against his dark shirt. His towering frame and terrifying aura immediately sucked the air out of the sunlit marina.
Diana’s voice died in her throat. She didn't know Riker’s name, but she recognized the absolute power radiating from him—the kind of man you never, ever crossed.
“Diana Harlo,” Riker said calmly, his voice carrying smoothly over the gentle lap of the ocean waves.
“Who... who are you?” she stammered, clutching her designer bag against her chest.
Riker walked over to her table, picked up her glass of mimosa, and poured it slowly onto the white fiberglass deck at her feet.
“I am the man who picked up Lily and Owen from Gate 17 at O’Hare,” Riker said softly.
Diana’s face went completely bloodless. Her hands began to shake violently. “I... I don't know what you’re talking about. I don't have children!”
“You do,” Riker corrected, leaning down so his face was inches from hers, his winter-blue eyes locking onto her soul. “Two five-year-old twins whose father saved my life seven years ago. The man whose death you profited from.”
“It’s not illegal to leave children at an airport!” she shrieked hysterically, backing up against the railing. “I couldn't afford them! Their father left me nothing!”
Riker pulled a thick folder from Marco’s hands and tossed it onto the glass table.
“Inside that folder is a complete financial audit of your bank accounts,” Riker explained coldly. “It details the fraudulent sale of Thomas’s shop, the illegal diversion of the children’s trust fund, and video footage from Gate 17 showing you walking away while a five-year-old girl watched your back. In ten minutes, federal prosecutors in Chicago will file charges for felony child abandonment, grand larceny, and estate fraud.”
Diana sank to her knees, sobbing hysterically. “What do you want from me? Money? Take the money! Take it all!”
“I don't want your filthy money, Diana,” Riker said, disgust lacing every syllable. “You are going to sign a full, irrevocable relinquishment of parental and legal guardianship rights to Lily and Owen Callahan. And then you are going to hand over every single cent remaining from Thomas’s estate into a court-monitored trust for the children.”
“And if I refuse?” she spat, trying to summon a shred of defiance.
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Riker leaned down, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper. “If you refuse, I will personally ensure you spend the next twenty years in a maximum-security state prison where no one will ever hear you scream.”
Five minutes later, her hands shaking so badly she could barely hold the pen, Diana Harlo signed the legal documents on the yacht’s deck.
