THE PRICE OF A GRANDFATHER'S HAPPINESS

Beatrice’s heels clicked against the linoleum floor, each step sounding like a judge’s gavel in the empty terminal. Her men spread out, blocking all the exits.

"Put the journal down on the bench, Arthur," Beatrice ordered, her voice eerily calm. "And bring me the child."

"You killed them," Arthur’s voice tore from his throat, raw and agonizing. "You murdered your own son! You murdered Sarah!"

"I protected my legacy!" Beatrice snapped, her composed mask slipping for a fraction of a second. "David was weak. He was going to give half the company away to whistleblowers just to clear his conscience. I couldn't allow that. And I certainly won't allow a washed-up, penniless old man to raise my granddaughter in the gutter."

Lily buried her face into Arthur’s chest, crying silently. Arthur held her so tightly his arms ached.

"You're a monster," Sam spat, stepping in front of Arthur to shield him. "The FBI already knows I’m alive, Beatrice. You kill us here, in a public terminal, you'll never get away with it."

Beatrice laughed, a cold, hollow sound. "Oh, Samuel. Always playing the hero. I don't need to kill you here. I just need you to be arrested."

She nodded to the man in the charcoal coat. He pulled a silver revolver from his jacket and tossed it onto the floor, right at Arthur's feet.

"There's a patrol car pulling up outside," Beatrice said, checking her diamond-encrusted watch. "In exactly thirty seconds, two officers on my payroll will walk through those doors. They will find the three of us. I will tell them you held me at gunpoint, Arthur. With your fingerprints on that unregistered weapon, you'll go to prison for twenty years. And Lily goes straight to me."

Arthur stared at the gun on the floor.

"Your other option," Beatrice continued, her eyes gleaming with malice, "is to leave the journal, leave the child, and walk out the back door right now. I will let you live out your pathetic life in peace. You have ten seconds to choose."

"Arthur, don't do it," Sam whispered urgently. "If she takes Lily, you'll never see her again."

Arthur looked down at Lily. Her bright blue eyes, so much like David’s, looked up at him with absolute, pure trust. I will not fail you, Arthur thought.

"Five seconds," Beatrice warned.

Arthur didn't reach for the gun. Instead, he reached into his cardigan pocket and pulled out the small wax seal stamp he had taken from Lily’s pocket earlier.

With a sudden, aggressive motion, Arthur threw the heavy metal stamp as hard as he could. It flew past Beatrice and shattered the glass of the fire alarm pull station on the wall behind her.

Instantly, deafening sirens blared through the terminal. Strobe lights flashed violently. The sprinkler system overhead burst to life, raining freezing water down on everyone.

Beatrice screamed in shock as the icy water ruined her fur coat. Her men instinctively covered their faces.

"Run!" Arthur yelled.

Sam grabbed the journal. Arthur scooped up Lily. They bolted toward the maintenance hallway just as the front doors burst open and the corrupt police officers rushed in, blinded by the strobes and the torrential downpour from the ceiling.

They broke through the emergency exit doors, spilling out into a muddy construction site behind the terminal.

"We need a car!" Sam yelled over the rain.

"There!" Arthur pointed to a rusted, idling pickup truck belonging to a late-night construction worker.

They scrambled into the cab. Sam threw it into gear and slammed on the gas, tearing through the chain-link fence just as Beatrice’s men poured out the back door.

As they sped onto the highway, Arthur finally caught his breath. He looked down to check on Lily. She was safe, but she was shivering.

He took off his wet cardigan to wrap around her. As he did, something fell out of the lining of his collar and landed on the dashboard.

It was a small, blinking red dot. A GPS tracker.

Arthur stared at it in horror. But before he could throw it out the window, Sam slammed on the brakes.