Chapter 28 - The Children's Choice
Julian stared into Alexander’s eyes. For five agonizing seconds, the only sound was the torrential rain drumming against the hoods of the abandoned SUVs and the low whine of the helicopter hovering above the trees.
Julian’s finger tightened on the trigger. A sob tore from his throat.
Then, with a sickening display of the cowardice that had defined his entire existence, Julian dropped the gun. It hit the wet mud with a dull splash. He sank to his knees, burying his face in his hands, weeping uncontrollably.
"I had nothing," Julian blubbered into the dirt. "Mother controlled everything... she told me if I didn't marry Evelyn, if I didn't have kids, grandfather would cut us off... she made me do it, Alexander... she made me hate them..."
Alexander looked down at the broken man in the mud with absolute indifference. He didn't kick him. He didn't strike him. To Alexander, Julian wasn't an enemy—he was garbage that had lingered too long on the front steps.
"Henri," Alexander said quietly. "Take him to the private airfield. Put him on the transport to the private sanitarium in Appenzell. He will spend the rest of his life in the same room where my mother died. Let him look at the snow until his mind rots."
"Yes, sir," Henri said, grabbing Julian by the collar and dragging him through the mud toward the street.
I jumped down from the helicopter skid the moment the ladder touched the lawn, sprinting past Alexander without a word. I kicked the ruined front door open and took the stairs three at a time.
"Leo! Maya!" I screamed, my voice breaking.
At the top of the stairs, the door to the master bedroom flew open. Leo stood there, the heavy brass fire poker still gripped tightly in his little hands, his knuckles red, his small jaw set like granite. Maya was clutching his shirt from behind, her big brown eyes filled with tears, but she wasn't crying.
The moment Leo saw my face, the iron left his small frame. The fire poker clattered onto the hardwood floor.
"Mama!" he cried out, launching himself into my arms.
I fell to my knees, gathering both Leo and Maya against my chest, burying my face in their damp hair, sobbing with a relief so profound my entire body shook. "I'm here, baby. Mama's here. You're safe. You're safe, I promise you."
From downstairs, the sound of heavy, measured footsteps approached.
Leo lifted his head from my shoulder. His gaze traveled over my back, looking toward the open doorway.
Alexander stood in the frame. His suit was drenched, his silver-black hair plastered to his forehead, his face streaked with rain. For all his billions, his private armies, and his European sovereign trusts, he stood there utterly motionless, looking at the two children in my arms with an expression of raw, unvarnished hunger—the look of a man who had survived thirty years of exile in an emotional desert, suddenly seeing the only living water he had ever cared to claim.
Leo didn't shrink back. He pulled away from my embrace slightly, standing up and placing himself once again between Alexander and his sister.
"Who are you?" Leo asked, his five-year-old voice clear, sharp, and totally fearless. "Are you with the bad man outside?"
Alexander slowly dropped to one knee. He placed both hands flat on the floor, lowering his head until his eyes were level with Leo’s.
"No, Leo," Alexander said, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. "I am the man who made sure the bad man will never, ever come back."
Leo studied him. With the terrifying intuition that only children possess, Leo looked at Alexander’s jaw, at the grey eyes that matched his own in the mirror, and then looked down at Alexander’s open, empty hands.
"You have my eyes," Leo said simply.
May you like
"No," Alexander replied, a faint, sad smile touching the corner of his lips. "You have mine. But your heart... that belongs to your mother."
***
