Chapter 6 - The Cabin by the Light
Before Richard could reach her, Marcus—Victoria’s personal driver and private bodyguard, a former naval intelligence officer who had served her family for twenty years—stepped out from the security corridor, blocking Richard’s path with his towering, six-foot-four frame.
"Stand down, Mr. Sterling," Marcus said, his voice a low, gravelly baritone as he placed a broad hand flat against Richard’s chest, halting him mid-stride.
"Marcus! You work for Sterling Maritime!" Richard shouted, trying to shove past the giant. "I am the CEO!"
"You're an officer of the board, sir," Marcus replied calmly. "Mrs. Sterling holds seventy percent of the voting equity. And more importantly... she pays my salary."
Victoria didn't wait to watch Marcus handle her husband. Holding Charlotte tightly against her chest, she strode down the private rear staircase leading to the estate's private underground garage.
Ten minutes later, a sleek black armored SUV tore through the heavy wrought-iron estate gates, its tires spraying gravel as it accelerated onto the dark coastal highway. Marcus drove with sharp, silent precision, while Victoria sat in the wide leather rear seat, wrapping Charlotte in a warm cashmere blanket and feeding her hot tea from a travel thermos alongside silver-plated biscuits.
Charlotte ate ravenously, her small hands shaking around the warm biscuit as she looked up at Victoria with wide, curious eyes.
"Are you... are you my mommy’s mommy?" Charlotte asked softly, wiping a crumb from her chin.
Victoria felt a lump form in her throat so large it threatened to choke her. She reached out, gently wiping a smudge of dried mud from the child's cheek with a soft silk handkerchief.
"Yes, my sweet girl," Victoria whispered, her voice trembling with profound warmth. "I am your grandmother. And I am never going to let anything hurt you again."
"Is mommy going to wake up when we get there?" Charlotte asked innocently, holding her tea cup with both hands. "She was so tired, grandma. She said she was going to rest until you came."
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Victoria turned her face toward the dark, rain-streaked window, pressing her trembling lips together to suppress a ragged sob. She knew what awaited them at the lighthouse cabin. She knew that her daughter—the child she had mourned for twenty long, agonizing years—had lived an entire life just thirty miles away, hidden in poverty, sick and suffering, while Victoria lived in luxury, believing a terrible lie.
"We are going to bring her home, Charlotte," Victoria promised quietly, turning back to the child, her dark eyes flashing with unyielding resolve. "We are going to bring your mother home."
