Chapter 3 - The Wolves at the Gate
By eight o'clock the following morning, Steel Manor was buzzing with uncharacteristic life.
Four stylists from Saks Fifth Avenue had arrived in a delivery van, unpacking racks of tiny winter coats, soft cashmere sweaters, custom denim, dresses, and dozen pairs of boots and shoes. A team of high-end interior designers was already quietly measuring two adjacent bedrooms in the west wing to begin transforming them into playrooms fit for a prince and princess.
Ryker sat at the long marble kitchen island, holding a mug of dark coffee, watching Lily and Owen.
The transformation was already beginning. Freshly showered, dressed in warm cream-colored sweaters and soft pants, the children looked remarkably different from the terrified orphans on the airport bench. Owen was sitting on a barstool, carefully smearing peanut butter on a piece of toast, while Lily sat beside him, watching a cartoon on an iPad Marco had set up for her.
"Mr. Ryker?" Owen said, looking up from his toast.
"Just Ryker, kiddo," he replied, leaning his elbows on the counter. "What's on your mind?"
"Are we going to school today?"
"Not today," Ryker said gently. "Today you get to stay here, pick out whatever toys you want from those boxes over there, and rest."
"Can Barnaby get a bath?" Lily asked, holding up her brother's stuffed bear, which had seen better days. "He smells like the airplane."
Ryker smiled slightly. "I'll have Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper, wash Barnaby in the gentle cycle. He'll smell like strawberries by lunch."
Before Lily could answer, the heavy front door chime echoed through the grand foyer.
Marco immediately stepped into the kitchen, his expression tight, his hand resting casually inside his jacket. "Boss. We have a situation at the main gate."
Ryker’s eyes narrowed. "Who is it?"
"Process server accompanied by two Cook County Sheriff deputies," Marco said grimly. "They have an emergency court order signed by Judge Thomas."
Ryker’s face turned to stone. He stood up smoothly, patting Owen’s shoulder. "Stay here with Mrs. Gable. I'll be right back."
Ryker walked down the grand hallway and out onto the broad stone porch. The morning air was biting cold. Parked at the wrought-iron gate fifty yards down the driveway were two marked police cruisers and a sleek black Lincoln Town Car.
Ryker walked down the snowy driveway, flanked by Marco and two armed estate security guards. As he approached the gate, the door of the Lincoln opened, and Harrison Croft stepped out.
Harrison Croft was in his late fifties, silver-haired, impeccably tailored, with a sharp, fox-like face and eyes that held zero warmth. Beside him was a young man in a cheap suit holding a stack of legal documents.
"Ryker," Croft sneered, stepping up to the iron bars of the gate. "I see you've taken up child rescue as a hobby. Surprising move for a man whose heart is made of cold tungsten."
"Croft," Ryker replied, stopping three feet from the gate, his hands casually tucked into his coat pockets. "You're trespassing on private property."
"I am here accompanied by law enforcement executing a lawful court order," Croft said smoothly, taking a document from the process server and holding it up against the iron bars. "This is an emergency order of protection and protective custody issued three hours ago by the Chancery Division of the Circuit Court. It orders the immediate surrender of Lily and Owen Hawthorne into the custody of the Department of Children and Family Services, pending an emergency guardianship hearing."
Ryker didn't even look at the paper. "Judge Thomas signed that."
"He did," Croft smiled wolfishly. "A very reasonable judge who understands that a billionaire bachelor with alleged ties to corporate extortion isn't a suitable temporary guardian for two traumatized orphans."
"Judge Thomas is on your payroll, Croft," Ryker said, his voice dropping into a register that made the two Sheriff deputies shift uncomfortably. "He's been taking kickbacks from your shell accounts in the Cayman Islands for three years. Did you really think I wouldn't trace the wire transfers the moment his signature appeared on that docket?"
Croft’s smile twitched slightly, but he maintained his composure. "Threats won't save you here, Steel. The police are here to enforce the order. If you don't open these gates and hand over those children in five minutes, you will be arrested for felony child abduction and obstruction of justice. Your empire won't survive the publicity."
Ryker walked up to the iron gate, stepping so close his chest nearly touched the bars. He looked past Croft, directly into the eyes of the lead Sheriff deputy.
"Deputy," Ryker said calmly. "Do you know what happens when you enforce an invalid order issued by a judge who is currently being investigated by the FBI's Public Corruption Task Force?"
The deputy blinked, his hand dropping away from his holster. "Sir?"
"At six o'clock this morning," Ryker continued, never breaking eye contact with the deputy, "my legal team filed an emergency federal injunction with the United States District Court for the Northern District of Illinois. At seven fifteen, Federal Judge Rebecca Vance signed a stay of all state court proceedings, placing Lily and Owen Hawthorne under temporary federal protective custody under my direct guardianship."
Croft’s face drained of color. "You're lying! No federal judge would—"
Ryker pulled his satellite phone from his pocket, pressed a key, and held it up to the gate.
"Harrison," Arthur Vance’s voice came loudly through the speaker. "This is Arthur. If you look at your phone, you'll see a digital copy of the federal stay served on your office five minutes ago. Furthermore, the U.S. Attorney’s Office has just issued a subpoena for all records related to your representation of Vanessa Vance and Hawthorne Logistics. I suggest you walk back to your car before federal marshals arrive to serve you personally."
Croft’s phone buzzed violently in his coat pocket. He pulled it out, looked at the screen, and his jaw clutched so tightly a muscle twitched in his cheek.
He looked back up at Ryker, his eyes filled with pure venom.
"This isn't over, Steel," Croft hissed, leaning close to the iron bars. "Those children are worth ninety million dollars. I spent two years setting up the liquidation structure for Hawthorne Logistics. I will not let a arrogant brute like you ruin my life's work. I will burn your reputation to the ground."
Ryker leaned in, his gray eyes cold as glacier ice.
"You tried to profit off abandoning two five-year-olds at an airport, Croft," Ryker whispered. "I won't just ruin your life's work. I am going to erase you."
Without waiting for a response, Ryker turned his back on the gate and walked slowly back up the driveway toward the manor. Behind him, he heard Croft cursing loudly as the deputies instructed him to step back into his vehicle.
May you like
Marco walked beside Ryker, his face grim. "He's desperate, Boss. Desperate men don't play by courtroom rules."
"I know," Ryker said, stepping back onto the porch. "Heighten the estate security to Level One. Double the perimeter guards, activate the infrared grid, and bring in four more men for the inner house detail. If Croft wants a war, Marco... give him one."
