Chapter 33 - A Face from the Past
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At one-thirty, thirty minutes before the court hearing, a sleek metallic black sedan pulled up directly in front of our front gate.
The engine cut off, plunging the quiet residential street into silence.
My heart thudded hard, but I didn't step back. I walked down the stone path, stopping just behind the iron gate. Chief Higgins's unmarked police cruiser was parked down the block, its officers watching closely through tinted glass.
The driver's side door of the sedan opened.
Arthur stepped out.
He looked identical to the nightmares that had haunted my childhood—tall, meticulously tailored in a dark navy suit, silver hair brushed back without a single strand out of place. He possessed the polished demeanor of a billionaire philanthropist, masking the predatory cruelty underneath.
He stopped two feet away from the iron bars, looking down at me with a condescending smile.
"Hello, Sarah," Arthur said, his voice smooth and smooth like velvet dipped in poison. "You've grown up to be quite the dramatic young woman."
"Step off my property, Arthur," I said, holding his gaze without flinching.
"Your property?" He chuckled softly, resting his gloved hands on the cold iron gate. "Everything you have, every cent in your bank account, was funded by my generosity while your mother played house with you."
"My mother is not your property," I replied coldly. "And her life with you is over."
Arthur’s smile faded, replaced by an icy, ruthless stillness.
"She belongs with me, Sarah. She doesn't know how to survive in the real world without my guidance. You are holding her hostage out of some misplaced childhood grudge."
"She is free, Arthur. And if you take one step onto this gravel, Chief Higgins will have you in handcuffs before you can hit the ground."
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Arthur leaned in close, his voice dropping into a chilling whisper.
"A piece of paper won't save her, little girl. And neither will you."
