Chapter 3 - The Service Garage
Caleb ran.
He heard Sloane calling his name behind him, then Thomas, then somebody from the wedding party asking whether they should stop the music.
He did not slow down.
The elevator felt too slow, so he took the stairs three at a time.
By the time he reached the service level, his black tuxedo jacket was open and his dark teal bow tie had been yanked loose.
The garage smelled like rain, concrete, and gasoline.
“Mom!”
His voice echoed between the parked cars.
No answer.
Then he heard tires squeal.
A black SUV shot toward the exit ramp.
Caleb caught one glimpse through the rear passenger window.
A dark teal dress.
A muddy hand against the glass.
“Mom!”
He sprinted after the vehicle.
It vanished into the rain.
He pulled out his phone and called hotel security.
“Stop that SUV.”
The guard on the line hesitated. “Sir, the vehicle was cleared by your father.”
Caleb froze.
“What?”
“Mr. Thomas Hart authorized the departure.”
Behind him, a slow clap echoed across the garage.
Caleb turned.
Victor Whitmore stood twenty feet away, dry beneath a black umbrella held by one of his assistants.
“This is becoming embarrassing,” Victor said.
“Where are they taking her?”
“To people who can help.”
“What people?”
“Your mother has had difficulties for years.”
Caleb stepped closer. “Do not talk about her like that.”
Victor did not flinch.
“You should ask your father why he agreed.”
“I’m asking you.”
“And I’m advising you to go back upstairs and marry my daughter.”
Caleb’s hand tightened around his phone.
Victor smiled faintly. “You have a room full of investors, board members, reporters, and family friends waiting. One emotional scene should not destroy a future worth hundreds of millions of dollars.”
There it was.
Not concern.
Money.
Caleb stepped within inches of him.
“If anything happens to my mother, your daughter is the last thing you need to worry about.”
Victor’s smile vanished.
His phone buzzed.
He glanced down.
Caleb saw the message reflected for half a second on the glossy screen.
TRANSFER COMPLETE.
B-17 SECURED.
Victor locked the phone.
Too late.
Caleb touched the brass key in his pocket.
“What is B-17?”
May you like
Victor’s face changed.
And suddenly Caleb knew the key mattered more than the wedding.
