Chapter 134

Chapter 134:

The boardroom was silent except for Hilliard’s voice. He was dismantling a competitor’s acquisition proposal with surgical precision.

“Your valuation is based on projected earnings that don’t exist,” he said, tossing the file onto the table. “It’s garbage p>

His private phone sat face down on the mahogany surface. It buzzed.

He ignored it.

It buzzed again. And again — persistent, urgent, refusing to stop.

He frowned. He flipped it over.

Caller ID: Cali.

He held up one hand. “Pause p>

The room froze. Hilliard Holloway never paused a negotiation.

He answered. “Cailin? I’m in a meeting p>

“Hilliard…” Her voice came through the speaker broken and terrified — a sound he had never heard from her before. “Help me p>

𝗙𝗶𝖣Fѕ 𝘰𝘯 𝗀𝗮𝗅ո𝗼vеl𝘀.𝖼𝗼𝘮

Hilliard was on his feet before the words had fully landed. His chair scraped hard against the floor. “What happened p>

“They took her. They took Elia.” She sobbed, and the sound tore straight through him.

“Who? When?” He turned and swept his hand at the room. “Out. Everyone out. Now p>

The executives gathered their papers and filed out, bewildered.

“A woman from the school,” Cailin gasped. “They are heading to the docks. She used a code word — only people close to us knew it p>

“Is it a ransom?” Hilliard was already moving toward the elevator, pulling his tie loose as he walked.

“No. I think… I think it’s Charla,” Cailin said.

Hilliard stopped dead in the hallway. “Charla p>

“She threatened to remove the obstacle. Hilliard, please. Save her p>

The confession hung between them in the silence. He had already known it somewhere beneath the surface — but hearing the desperation in her voice broke something open in him.

“Where are you?” he demanded.

“I’m tracking her GPS. I’m sending you the coordinates now p>

A ping landed on his phone. A live map. The red dot hovered near the Hudson River, still moving.

“I see it. I’m closer to the docks than you are.” He checked his watch. He could make it. “I’m going. Stay on the line p>

He called his security chief on his second line as he ran. “Code Red. Kidnapping in progress. Target is moving toward Pier 4 — gray van, stolen plates p>

“Sir, who is the target?” the chief asked. “Is it a company asset p>

The elevator doors opened to the garage. Hilliard bypassed the Maybach without breaking stride. Too slow. He needed the Aston Martin — the one he kept for the rare moments when raw speed was the only answer. He sprinted toward it.

“A child,” Hilliard said.

He pulled the door open and dropped into the seat.

“My family,” he finished.

He turned the key. The engine erupted — a roar of pure, barely contained aggression. He reversed out hard, tires screaming against the concrete, leaving black streaks across the garage floor.

“I’m coming, Cailin,” he said into the phone. “I’m coming p>

On the other end of the line, Cailin sagged against Ashely, the phone still pressed to her ear.

“He’s going,” she breathed.