Chapter 19 - The Blackout Gala
The explosion bought twenty minutes.
Julian had thrown himself backward through the reinforced bedroom wall seconds before the blast collapsed the foyer, riding the shockwave down through the floorboards into the lower foundation. Battered, bleeding from a deep laceration along his hairline, his shoulder dislocated, he had dragged himself through the drainage pipe, emerging into the dark Massachusetts woods just as Marcus’s Suburban screeched to a halt.
Clara and Maya were inside.
When Clara saw Julian stumble from the treeline, covered in soot, blood, and pulverized drywall, she let out a strangled cry. She threw open the armored door, pulling him inside with frantic hands. Julian collapsed onto the leather seat, his breathing shallow, his face gray with agony.
"You’re alive..." Clara wept, pressing a clean cloth against the bleeding wound on his temple. "You’re alive..."
"Maya..." Julian gasped, his eyes darting wildly.
"She’s here. She’s safe," Clara sobbed, guiding his trembling hand to Maya’s cheek. The baby reached out and grabbed her father’s bloody finger with her tiny hand.
Julian closed his eyes, exhaling a shuddering breath. "Marcus... where are they heading?"
Marcus didn't take his eyes off the dark highway, accelerating the Suburban to ninety miles an hour. "They aren't hunting us anymore, sir."
Julian’s eyes snapped open. "What do you mean?"
"Eleanor Sterling just sent a public broadcast to every news network in New York," Marcus said grimly, tapping the dashboard screen.
The screen flickered to life.
It was an invitation. A gilded, black-and-gold invitation displayed across the Times Square digital billboards:
**THE STERLING DYNASTY RESURRECTION GALA.**
**TONIGHT AT 10:00 PM.**
**THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART — THE TEMPLE OF DENDUR.**
**HOSTED BY ELEANOR STERLING & ALEXANDER STERLING-VANE.**
Beneath the invitation was a live ticker of Sterling Holdings’ newly reclaimed stock, soaring by four hundred percent in after-hours trading as European sovereign wealth funds poured billions into Alexander’s accounts.
And then came Eleanor’s voice-over, dripping with icy venom:
*"To my beloved son Julian, and his charming wife Clara: A seat of honor awaits you at the high table. Bring my granddaughter to meet high society. Come claim what is yours... or tomorrow morning, the federal government will receive documents proving Julian Sterling orchestrated the murder of his own father."*
Clara gasped, covering her mouth. "Your father didn't die of a heart attack?"
Julian’s face went deadly pale. "No. He died of an overdose of digitalis. Eleanor framed it as cardiac arrest. But she had the toxicology reports doctored." Julian looked at Clara, his voice dropping to a horrifying whisper. "She has the forged lab reports with my signature on the requisition forms. If she releases them to the Department of Justice, I will be arrested for patricide before sunrise. They will take Maya into state custody."
"They want the baby," Clara realized, a cold dread washing over her entire being. "They don't care about the money anymore. Eleanor wants our child. She wants to tear Maya away from us and turn her into a monster like Alexander."
Julian sat up slowly, gritting his teeth as he violently popped his dislocated shoulder back into its socket with a sickening *pop*. He didn't even flinch.
The pain in his body was nothing compared to the lethal rage burning in his chest.
"Marcus," Julian said, his voice dropping into an octave of terrifying calm. "Turn the vehicle around. Head south toward Manhattan."
"Julian, no!" Clara begged, clutching his arm. "It’s an ambush! The Met will be crawling with their private security! There will be five hundred guests, politicians, judges—they own the room!"
Julian turned to Clara. He reached out and cupped her tear-streaked face with his bloodied hand.
"Eleanor thinks she is the queen of Manhattan high society," Julian whispered, his eyes blazing with an ancient, unyielding fury. "She thinks that because she has the champagne, the pearls, and the politicians, she cannot be touched."
Julian leaned forward, his forehead resting against Clara’s.
"A year ago, I showed the world who Eleanor Sterling was. Tonight... I am going to destroy the Sterling name forever. But I need you with me, Clara. Not as a victim. As my equal."
Clara looked down at Maya sleeping peacefully in the car seat. Then she looked into Julian’s eyes—the man who had bled for them, the man who had walked through fire to keep them alive.
May you like
She wiped the tears from her cheeks. The trembling stopped. Her jaw tightened into iron.
"Get me a dress," Clara said, her voice steady and lethal. "A red one."
