Chapter 4 - The Ransom of Glass
For forty-eight hours, Nathan lived in the pediatric ICU. Lily had finally stabilized, sleeping peacefully under layers of heated blankets, blissfully unaware of the storm raging outside her hospital room. The twins, Owen and Ethan, were healthy, fussy, and constantly demanding bottles from the nurses. They were safe.
But every time Nathan closed his eyes, he saw his sister bleeding on a cold floor.
His burner phone—provided by Vance for secure communications—buzzed at 2:00 AM. The caller ID was blocked. Nathan answered on the first ring.
"Nathan," a voice rasped. It was breathless, panicked, and heavily intoxicated. Marcus.
"Where is she, Marcus?" Nathan asked, his voice dead calm.
"You think you're so smart, you arrogant prick," Marcus spat, the sound of wind whipping in the background of the call. "Sitting in your glass mansion. You ruined everything. She was going to leave me. She took my insurance policy."
"I have the drive," Nathan lied smoothly, deciding to play the trump card immediately. "I know about the offshore accounts. I know about the cartel."
A heavy silence fell over the line. "You have it?" Marcus breathed, his panic escalating. "Bring it to me. Now. Or I put a bullet in her head."
"Let me speak to her."
"No."
"Let me speak to her, Marcus, or I hit ‘send’ on an email to the FBI and the DEA, and your cartel friends will be hunting you before the sun comes up. Let. Me. Speak. To. Her."
There was a scuffle on the line, a muffled groan, and then a weak, trembling voice.
"N-Nathan?"
Nathan closed his eyes, fighting a sob. "Sarah. I'm here, sweetie. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't listen."
"The babies..." she wheezed. "Lily?"
"They're safe. They're with me. They're perfect."
"Thank God," Sarah whispered, and Nathan could hear the smile in her broken voice. "Don't give it to him, Nathan. Let him kill me. If he gets the drive, he'll come for the kids."
"Shut up!" Marcus yelled, snatching the phone back. "You hear that, Doc? She's barely holding on. You want her alive? The old lumber mill on Route 9. Alone. You have exactly one hour."
The line went dead.
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Nathan stood up, stripping off his white doctor’s coat. He slipped a surgical scalpel into his pocket, alongside the flash drive. He looked at Lily through the glass of the ICU window one last time, pressing his hand against the pane.
"I'm bringing your mommy home," he promised the sleeping child.
