Chapter 3 - Through the Iron Gates
The roar of the minivan’s four-cylinder engine tore through the torrential rain. The two private guards standing behind the gate unholstered their tasers, their faces blanching beneath their drenched caps as two tons of rusted steel hurtled directly toward the barrier. Robert let out a shrill, undignified shriek, dropping his black umbrella and stumbling backward into a pool of oily slush.
Only Victoria Sterling remained utterly motionless. Her pale, perfectly sculpted face didn't flinch. She simply watched me through the driving rain, her eyes as cold as slate, daring me to cross the line.
At the very last second, just three feet from the heavy iron gate, I slammed both feet onto the brake. The tires locked, screaming in protest against the slick asphalt. The minivan slid sideways, spraying a blinding wave of freezing water that drenched Uncle Robert from head to toe before coming to a violent, shuddering halt bumper-to-bumper with the steel barricade.
Silence crashed over the yard, broken only by the panting of our breath and the thudding of the wipers.
"Stay inside," I told the boys, my knuckles white against the steering wheel.
"Not a chance, Mom," Noah replied softly. The lock clicked, and his door swung open before I could stop him. Mason followed right behind.
I stepped out into the biting wind, the cold rain immediately plastering my hair to my forehead. Across the iron gate, Robert scrambled to his feet, trembling in his ruined designer suit.
"Have you lost your minds?!" Robert spat, his voice cracking with hysteria. "This is private property! This is corporate headquarters! I have armed security—I can have all three of you arrested for domestic terrorism before sunrise!"
"Let them try, Uncle Robert," Mason said, walking up beside me. He didn't slouch the way he used to when Robert visited our cramped apartment. Standing at six-foot-one in the downpour, he looked every bit the rightful heir of the Sterling name. "Call the city police. Tell them that two eighteen-year-old boys have arrived to inspect the company registered under their birth certificates."
Victoria stepped forward, her expensive leather heels clicking sharply against the wet pavement. She waved a dismissive hand at the guards, who immediately lowered their weapons, visibly unsettled by the resemblance between the twins and the portraits hanging in the executive lobby.
"Still reckless, Sarah," Victoria said. Her voice was smooth, cultured, and devoid of any human warmth. "Thirteen years of living in the gutter haven't taught you basic manners. And you dragged Evelyn's boys into your pathetic little crusade."
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"You died," I said, stepping between Victoria and the boys. "We buried an empty casket in Oakridge Cemetery twelve years ago. You collected eighty million dollars in corporate life insurance, stripped Evelyn's estate clean, and vanished to Zurich."
Victoria offered a thin, venomous smile. "I didn't vanish, darling. I restructured. And if you think a couple of counterfeit ledgers pulled off an old server give you any right to stand before me, you are vastly underestimating who owns the Sterling name."
