Chapter 3 - The Gathering of the Vultures
By day five in London, the children had settled beautifully into their new routine. The Surrey estate was a sanctuary of old brick, ivy, and sprawling gardens. For the first time in a decade, I didn’t wake up with a knot of anxiety in my stomach.
But back in New York, the trap was closing around Bradley.
My phone rang at 2:00 PM GMT. It was Arthur Harrison. "Sarah, my dear. The fish is biting. Bradley’s lawyers just filed an emergency motion in Manhattan supreme court demanding your immediate return to the jurisdiction. They are alleging financial extortion."
"Financial extortion?" I laughed. "I haven't taken a single penny that wasn't mine."
"Exactly," Arthur said, his voice laced with satisfaction. "He’s trying to scare you. He thinks that because you're a stay-at-home mother, you don't have the stomach for a public dogfight. He’s also desperate because the Bennett Group’s stock took a four-percent dive this morning after rumors circulated that he embezzled from his own children’s trust funds."
"Is Eleanor backing him?"
"Fully. Eleanor is paying his legal fees. She believes you are a bitter, vindictive ex-wife trying to ruin her son’s 'fresh start.' She’s throwing a massive gala tomorrow night at the Plaza Hotel to celebrate the upcoming Bennett Group merger and Tiffany’s pregnancy. It’s a public relations stunt to salvage the family name."
"A gala," I murmured. A slow, calculated smile spread across my face. "Arthur, is the satellite video link for the board meeting still scheduled for tomorrow afternoon?"
"Yes. 3:00 PM New York time. The board members, Eleanor, Bradley, and their legal team will all be present in the main conference room."
"Perfect," I said. "Send them the encrypted link for my deposition. Tell them I will agree to discuss the return of the children—on one condition."
"Which is?"
"That Tiffany Vance is present in the room as a named interested party in the asset division."
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There was a pause on the line, followed by Arthur's deep, booming laugh. "Oh, Sarah. Your father would be so incredibly proud of you. I’ll set the stage."
That evening, I sat in the library of the Surrey house, wearing a stunning, tailored emerald green silk blouse. I looked at the reflection in the glass window. The exhausted, defeated woman who used to hide in the pantry to cry was gone. In her place was a mother who had found her fire.
