Two three-year-old twins walked into a $230 million boardroom meeting and pointed at the CEO, whispering four terrifying words.

The rain began to fall in heavy, deliberate sheets over Queens as the convoy of armored black SUVs roared out of the alleyway behind the apartment building. The lead ambulance, operated by a elite private medical team funded directly by Walker Global, wove through traffic with its sirens screaming, clearing an emergency corridor across the Queensboro Bridge toward Manhattan General Hospital.

Inside the second SUV, the interior was dead quiet save for the soft sound of the rain hammering against the reinforced glass windows.

Adrian sat in the broad leather rear seat, his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the dense, dark tattoos covering his forearms. On his left side sat Lucy, her head resting against his ribs, still clutching the worn stuffed rabbit. On his right sat Abby, her small hand firmly wrapped around two of his fingers, her quiet brown eyes watching the city lights blur past the window.

The heavy smartphone in Adrian’s hand was quiet now. He had let the call from Eleanor Walker ring out until it hit voicemail, followed immediately by three consecutive encrypted text messages that he had not opened.

His head of security, a broad-shouldered man named Vance who had served Adrian’s father a decade prior, turned around from the front passenger seat.

"Boss," Vance said quietly, his voice laced with deep concern. "The private wing at Manhattan General is fully secured. Dr. Mercer has assembled the chief of critical care and a pediatric team for the girls. No media, no public logs."

"And my mother?" Adrian asked, his voice icy and devoid of emotion.

Vance hesitated, adjusting his tie nervously. "Mrs. Walker’s office called the main desk three times in the last ten minutes. She knows you walked out of the acquisition meeting. She knows you took two children from the building."