Chapter 2 - The Cold Reality of Victoria Vance
High above the clouds, inside the luxurious, spacious cabin of a first-class Boeing 777, Victoria Vance leaned back against her plush leather seat and took a long, leisurely sip of chilled vintage champagne. The bubbles danced on her tongue, but they tasted even better was the absolute, profound sense of freedom washing over her.
For three agonizing years, since her wealthy older husband David Vance had suffered a fatal, sudden aneurysm, Victoria had been trapped playing the role of the grieving, devoted young widow burdened with two instant children that weren't even her own blood. David’s biological twins, Owen and Lily, had been nothing more than anchors dragging her down, reminding her of bills, responsibilities, and missed opportunities on the social circuit.
""Good riddance,"" Victoria murmured to herself, smoothing down the front of her expensive beige cashmere coat.
She had calculated everything down to the minute. She left the kids on a crowded public bench in O'Hare's Terminal 1, knowing that human nature would guarantee people would ignore them for at least an hour. By the time airport security or some nosey social worker figured out what happened, her flight would be halfway across the Atlantic Ocean, well outside of immediate domestic jurisdiction. She had already transferred the remaining liquid capital from David’s secondary accounts into an offshore shell company in the Cayman Islands. As far as she was concerned, her slate was wiped clean. She was young, she was wealthy, and she was officially child-free.
""Excuse me, Madam?""
Victoria turned her head, expecting a flight attendant offering warm nuts or a refill on her champagne. Instead, standing in the aisle was the flight purser, accompanied by two massive, unsmiling airport security officers whose uniforms bore federal insignificance badges. More terrifyingly, behind them stood a man in a crisp airline pilot uniform flanked by two federal marshals.
""Yes?"" Victoria arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, pasting on an expression of haughty annoyance. ""Do you know who I am? I am flying first class, and I demand to know why you are disturbing my flight.""
The purser didn't flinch. He simply stepped aside to reveal the captain of the aircraft.
""Mrs. Vance,"" the captain said, his voice grim and tight. ""I am sorry to inform you, but we have received a direct, non-negotiable directive from the Federal Aviation Administration, coordinated through emergency homeland security channels. We are returning to the gate immediately.""
Victoria’s heart skipped a beat, but she forced a cold, sarcastic laugh. ""Returning to the gate? Are you out of your mind? My luggage is checked to London, and I have a connecting flight to Paris! You can't just turn a commercial airliner around because of some petty baggage dispute!""
""This isn't about baggage, Mrs. Vance,"" one of the federal marshals stepped forward, his hand resting casually near his sidearm. ""This is about child abandonment. Gross negligence, reckless endangerment, and a federal hold placed on your person by order of Ryker Steel.""
The name hit Victoria like a physical blow to the chest. The color drained instantly from her face, leaving her skin looking like curdled milk beneath the cabin lights. Ryker Steel? Everyone in the city, from Wall Street boardrooms to the darkest corners of the underworld, knew that name. Ryker Steel didn't just have power; he operated above the law, a shadow king whose wrath was legendary and absolute.
""There... there must be some mistake,"" Victoria stammered, her composure shattering completely as her manicured hands began to shake against the armrest. ""I didn't... those children weren't my responsibility! They were distant wards, I was just—""
""You were running away,"" a deep, cold voice cut through the cabin from behind the marshals.
The crowd of passengers parted in terrified silence as Ryker Steel walked down the aisle. He wasn't wearing his airport coat anymore; his jacket was unbuttoned, his sleeves slightly rolled up, revealing the strong, corded muscles of his forearms. His expression was a mask of cold, unyielding granite.
""Mr... Mr. Steel,"" Victoria choked out, shrinking back into her seat as if trying to merge with the leather upholstery. ""I didn't know... I had no idea those children had any connection to you! Please, this is a misunderstanding—""
""A misunderstanding,"" Ryker repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he stopped right beside her row. He leaned down, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers with a pressure so intense it felt like physical weight. ""You walked through a secure terminal, looked two five-year-old orphans in the eye, and walked away to catch a flight to Europe like they were trash left on a curb. You called them 'too much trouble'.""
""They're not my blood!"" Victoria shrieked, losing her cool entirely as curious passengers craned their necks from surrounding rows. ""Their father died and left me with nothing but debt and brats! I had every right to drop them off where someone else could deal with them!""
Ryker slowly straightened up, a humorless, predatory smile touching the corners of his mouth.
""You're right, Victoria,"" Ryker said smoothly. ""You did have a choice. And now, I am going to show you the consequences of that choice."" He nodded to the marshals. ""Cuff her. Take her off my plane. Freeze every single asset, bank account, credit card, and property deed tied to her name by the time her feet hit the tarmac. By tomorrow morning, she won't even own the clothes on her back.""
""You can't do that!"" Victoria screamed as the heavy steel cuffs snapped around her wrists, biting cruelly into her skin. ""You have no legal right! Who do you think you are—God?!""
May you like
Ryker turned his back on her as security dragged her weeping, kicking form down the aisle toward the exit.
""No,"" Ryker muttered softly to himself, watching her disappear through the curtain. ""Just the man making sure karma collects its debts today.""
