Part 2
“Get up,” Jax hissed, hauling Marcus to his feet by his collar before violently shoving him into the arms of two country club security guards. “If he moves, I’ll hold you both personally responsible.” Jax grabbed my hand, his grip warm and steadying. “Come on, Chloe. We’re going to the airfield.”
We sprinted to Jax’s modified tactical SUV. The second the heavy doors slammed shut, Jax threw the truck into drive, tearing through the pristine landscaping of the estate. The tires tore up the manicured grass as we shot out onto the coastal highway. My heart was hammering so violently against my ribs I thought it might actually crack my sternum. I gripped the leather dashboard, staring out into the dark night.
“What did he mean, Jax?” I asked, my voice trembling uncontrollably. “What did Marcus mean about the judge taking my custody rights away?”
Jax’s jaw was set like granite, his eyes fixed on the winding coastal road as he pushed the heavy SUV past ninety miles an hour. “Think about it, Chloe. What happens if a family court judge declares you mentally unfit? Who becomes Mia’s primary guardian if I’m out of the country on deployment? Who gets immediate control of her assets?”
The realization hit me like a physical blow to the stomach, knocking the wind entirely out of me. “The trust fund,” I gasped.
When my father passed away last year, he left a multi-million-dollar trust entirely to Mia. I was the sole executor, but if I were deemed psychologically unstable—something Marcus had clearly been planting seeds for all evening by telling our friends I was ‘off my medication’—control of the trust would legally default to my current spouse in an emergency.
“Marcus’s investment firm has been bleeding money for months,” Jax explained, his voice dangerously tight as he swerved to pass a slow-moving sedan. “I ran a quiet background check on him last month when he started acting shady around you. He’s into Preston Vance for at least ten million dollars. This wasn’t a random kidnapping, Chloe. It was a sick, calculated transaction. Preston takes Mia, Marcus stages a scene to make you look like a hysterical, abusive mother in front of the city’s most powerful people. Marcus gets custody, liquidates the trust to pay off Preston, and Preston gets his money back.”
Bile rose in my throat. I had slept next to this monster. I had let him tuck my daughter into bed at night. He had engineered my complete psychological destruction just to cover his massive gambling and business debts.
“He won’t get away with this,” I swore, my voice dropping to a vicious, deadly whisper. “I will kill him myself.”
“You won’t have to,” Jax said coldly. “We’re here.”
Jax slammed on the brakes, the SUV skidding to a halt just outside the perimeter fence of Preston’s private airstrip. A sleek Gulfstream jet was idling on the dark tarmac, its engines whining loudly in the night air. And right next to the boarding stairs was the black Escalade.
Jax pulled a matte-black Glock from the center console, chambering a round with a terrifyingly loud click. “Stay right behind me. Don’t make a sound.”
We moved silently through the tall, damp grass, slipping through a gap in the rusted chain-link fence. The airfield was completely deserted, and the deafening noise of the jet engines covered our approach. As we crept closer to the Escalade, I saw Preston leaning against the hood, casually smoking a cigarette and looking at his phone. There was no sign of Mia in the car.
Jax moved like a shadow. Before Preston could even turn around, Jax grabbed the billionaire by the back of his expensive jacket and slammed his face brutally into the metal hood of the SUV. The sickening crack of Preston’s nose breaking made me flinch.
“Where is she?” Jax roared over the whine of the jet, pressing the barrel of his gun directly into the base of Preston’s skull. “Where is my daughter?!”
“She’s in the plane!” Preston shrieked, blood pouring freely down his chin and staining his white shirt. “She’s fine, I swear to God! Marcus told me to hold her here for three hours until the psychiatric hold was placed on Chloe! It was just supposed to be a scare tactic to get the paperwork signed!”
I didn’t wait for Jax to finish interrogating him. I bypassed the struggle and scrambled frantically up the metal steps of the jet. The cabin was dimly lit. In the back, huddled on an oversized leather seat and clutching a blanket, was Mia.
“Mommy!” she cried out, her little face red and streaked with terrified tears.
I lunged forward, catching her in my arms and burying my face in her hair. I held her so tightly she squeaked, but I couldn’t let go. She was safe. She was finally safe.
But as I carried her back toward the doorway to escape, I glanced down at a mahogany table in the center of the cabin. Sitting underneath a half-empty glass of whiskey was a stack of legal documents. My name was printed boldly on the top folder. I picked them up with my free hand, my blood turning to absolute ice. They were medical records. Fake psychiatric evaluations from a doctor I had never seen, diagnosing me with severe paranoia and schizophrenia. And at the bottom of the page, supposedly verifying the diagnosis, was my forged signature.
Marcus hadn’t just planned to embarrass me tonight. He had planned to have me permanently committed to a psychiatric facility.
Part 3
I stood frozen in the cabin of the private jet, staring at the forged signature on the psychiatric evaluation. The absolute malice of Marcus’s plan was staggering. He had carefully orchestrated every detail to lock me away in a facility, steal my daughter’s inheritance, and walk away a wealthy man playing the role of the tragic, supportive husband.
“Chloe!” Jax’s voice barked from the bottom of the plane’s stairs. “We need to move. Police sirens are coming up the access road.”
I quickly folded the forged medical documents, stuffing them deep into the bodice of my torn evening gown. I wrapped Mia tightly in the cabin blanket, shielding her eyes from the bright tarmac lights, and hurried down the steps. Jax was standing over a groaning Preston, who was now handcuffed to the steering wheel of his own Escalade with a pair of heavy-duty zip-ties Jax had pulled from his tactical vest.
“Did you get her?” Jax asked, his hardened eyes softening the moment he saw Mia’s face buried in my neck.
“I have her,” I breathed, kissing the top of my daughter’s head. “And I have something else. Jax, Marcus forged medical records. He had a fake doctor sign off on committing me. The papers were sitting right there on the table.”
A terrifying, predatory smile spread across Jax’s face. “Is that so? Well, then. I think it’s time we go back to the party and show Marcus what a real scene looks like.”
By the time we pulled back into the circular driveway of the country club, the scene was utter chaos. Red and blue police lights painted the towering marble columns of the estate. The elite guests hadn’t left; they were clustered on the terrace, whispering frantically. In the center of the driveway, Marcus was talking animatedly to two police detectives, playing the victim perfectly. He had a handkerchief pressed to his forehead, looking distraught.
“Officers, you have to understand, my wife is not well,” Marcus was saying loudly, ensuring the crowd could hear his performance. “She had a psychotic break. She attacked me, and then her violent ex-husband assaulted me and stole my vehicle. You need to put out an Amber Alert. They might hurt my stepdaughter.”
The absolute audacity of the man made my blood boil. I didn’t wait for Jax to park. The moment the SUV stopped, I threw open the door and stepped out, holding Mia securely on my hip.
“Mommy!” Mia pointed at the crowd.
The murmurs on the terrace stopped instantly. The detectives turned. Marcus froze, the handkerchief dropping from his face. The color drained completely from his cheeks as he realized Preston had failed.
“Mia!” Marcus recovered quickly, forcing a look of overwhelming relief. He stepped forward, reaching out his arms. “Oh, thank God. Chloe, what were you thinking running off like that? Give her to me.”
“Don’t you dare come near us,” I snarled, my voice echoing loudly in the stunned silence.
Jax stepped out of the driver’s side, towering over the detectives. He didn’t look at Marcus. He looked directly at the lead officer. “My name is Jaxson Miller. I’m a licensed private investigator and the biological father of that little girl. We just recovered her from Preston Vance’s private jet. Vance is currently tied to his steering wheel at the airfield, waiting for your backup units.”
The detective frowned, resting his hand on his duty belt. “Sir, your husband here claims you assaulted him and that his wife is suffering from a severe mental health crisis.”
“Am I?” I asked coldly. I reached into my dress and pulled out the crumpled psychiatric evaluation, slamming it directly into Marcus’s chest before letting it fall to the ground. “Or did my husband hire a fraudulent doctor to forge my signature so he could have me involuntarily committed and seize my daughter’s ten-million-dollar trust fund to pay off his bad investments?”
Marcus panicked. His eyes darted around the crowd of his wealthy peers, reading the sudden disgust on their faces. “That’s a lie! She’s forging things! She’s crazy!”
“The FBI is currently raiding Preston Vance’s estate, Marcus,” Jax said smoothly, though the lie was delivered with absolute conviction. “You think they won’t find the wire transfers? You think Preston is going to keep his mouth shut to protect you? He’s already singing like a bird.”
That broke him. Marcus lunged forward, not toward me, but toward the gap in the police line, trying to make a run for the gate. He didn’t make it two steps. Jax swept his leg, driving Marcus face-first into the gravel driveway. The detectives were on him in a second, violently wrenching his arms behind his back and clicking the steel cuffs over his wrists.
“Marcus Vance,” the detective barked, reading him his rights as he hauled the struggling, humiliated banker to his feet. “You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit kidnapping, fraud, and child endangerment.”
The wealthy crowd watched in stunned, judgmental silence as Marcus was shoved into the back of a police cruiser, his reputation, his freedom, and his entire life completely destroyed.
I stood there on the driveway, feeling the cool ocean breeze wash over me. The nightmare was over. I held Mia tighter, burying my face in her shoulder. Jax walked over, wrapping a strong, protective arm around both of us. For the first time in years, as I looked up at the flashing police lights and the man who had helped me save our daughter, I finally felt completely safe.
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