Chapter 6
Noah had fifteen minutes.
That was all.
After court, Victor’s driver was supposed to take him directly back to the penthouse. Two security men were assigned to him “for privacy.”
Privacy meant captivity.
Noah had hidden the black titanium card inside the lining of his overcoat.
The locker key was taped beneath his watch strap.
His phone contained nothing obvious.
The important items were not on the phone anymore.
Not where Victor’s people would check.
Locker 317.
Terminal 4.
JFK.
He chose it because his mother once told him airports were the only places where rich men could not control every door.
Too many cameras.
Too many agencies.
Too many strangers.
Noah waited until the driver was blocked by traffic outside the courthouse.
Then he opened the rear door and ran.
One security man shouted.
The other swore.
Noah cut through pedestrians, crossed against a light, and ducked into a taxi before fear could catch up.
“JFK,” he said, breathless. “Fast, please.”
The driver glanced at him in the mirror.
“You okay?”
Noah looked at his shaking hands.
“No.”
The honesty surprised them both.
During the ride, Noah called no one.
He did not text his mother.
He did not check the files.
He only watched the city blur past the window and tried not to think about Grace.
Victor had threatened his grandmother.
But Victor had underestimated one thing.
Noah loved Elena more than he feared him.
By the time he reached the terminal, his throat burned from holding back panic.
He saw his mother near security.
Navy coat.
Small suitcase.
Alone.
For one second, he was six years old again, running toward her after school.
Then he shouted the only word he could.
May you like
“Mom.”
Read the full story 👉 Noah escaped Victor’s security with minutes to spare, carrying the card and locker key his father never knew he had.
