Chapter 14 - The Shadow of the Past
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“You don't have a child, Mark,” I said, my voice shaking uncontrollably as I continued to back away up the driveway. “You walked out when I was four months pregnant. You haven't paid a dime in six years. You have no rights to her.”
“Rights?” Mark laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that echoed in the cold morning air. He took another aggressive step forward, closing the distance. “I don't care about rights, Gracie. I care about the fifty grand I owe to some very bad men downtown. Men who are going to break my kneecaps if I don't pay them by Friday.”
He reached out suddenly, his filthy hand clamping down hard on my wrist. I cried out in pain, trying to pull away, but his grip was like a vise.
“You’re going to walk into that giant house,” Mark hissed, his foul breath washing over my face, “and you are going to get your billionaire sugar daddy to write a check. Or I swear to God, I will go to the family courts and demand partial custody. I’ll drag you and that kid through years of legal hell until you pay me to go away.”
“Let go of her.”
The voice didn't boom. It didn't shout. It was a low, vibrating hum of absolute, lethal violence that seemed to freeze the very falling snow.
Mark spun around, loosening his grip on my wrist just enough for me to yank my arm free.
James was walking down the long driveway. He wasn't wearing a suit. He wore dark slacks and a black turtleneck, his broad shoulders squared, his face an emotionless mask of pure, unadulterated murder.
“Who the hell are you?” Mark sneered, trying to maintain his bravado, puffing out his chest. “I’m talking to my wife.”
“She is not your wife,” James stated softly, stopping exactly three feet away from Mark. The physical difference between the two men was staggering. Mark was a broken, desperate addict. James was an apex predator. “And you are trespassing on private property.”
“I have rights!” Mark shouted, pointing a shaking finger at James. “I’m the father of her kid! I’ll take this to the press! I’ll tell them the great James Whitmore is hoarding my family!”
James didn't blink. He didn't argue legalities.
He moved with terrifying, blinding speed.
James grabbed Mark by the lapels of his filthy coat, effortlessly lifting the man entirely off his feet, and slammed him violently backward against the heavy stone pillar of the front gate. The impact knocked the wind out of Mark in a harsh, agonizing gasp.
“You are going to listen to me very carefully,” James whispered, leaning in so his face was inches from Mark’s terrified eyes. “If you ever speak her name again, if you ever look in the direction of this estate, or if you even breathe near that little girl...”
May you like
James tightened his grip, hoisting Mark an inch higher up the stone wall.
“I will not call the police,” James promised, his voice dark and hollow. “I will make you disappear. And I have enough money to ensure that not a single soul on this earth ever finds you.”
