Chapter 3: The Wrath of the Sun
BOOM!
The massive, reinforced oak front door didn't just open—Liam kicked it with the full, devastating force of his combat boots, shattering the heavy brass deadbolt and sending the door flying inward, slamming against the entry wall.
The explosion of wood and freezing wind instantly shattered the peaceful luxury of the living room. Richard dropped his crystal wine glass, the expensive red liquid staining the white Persian rug like blood. Eleanor shrieked, jumping up from the sofa, covering her face from the incoming snow.
"What is the meaning of—" Richard began to roar, his voice filled with billionaire arrogance.
But the words died in his throat as the towering figure of his son stepped into the warmth of the foyer. Liam’s uniform was covered in snow, but it was his face that made his wealthy parents freeze in absolute terror. He looked like an apex predator who had just discovered the monsters who tried to destroy his mate.
Without saying a single word to them, Liam gently laid Grace down on the plush, warm rug directly in front of the roaring fireplace. He stripped off his dry tactical jacket, wrapping it tightly around her shivering frame.
"Liam? You're... you're home early!" Eleanor stammered, her face turning a ghostly shade of white as she took a step backward. "Darling, listen to me... that girl, she’s a liar! She came here demanding money, she insulted our family—"
"Shut your mouth, Eleanor," Liam said, his voice dropping into a deadly, sub-zero whisper that was far more terrifying than any shout. He didn't call her mother. He used her name like an insult.
Liam pulled his military satellite phone from his pocket. Because the local lines were down, only his secure military encryption could cut through the storm. Within seconds, he had the commander of the local search-and-rescue military outpost on the line.
"This is Captain Vance," Liam commanded, his eyes locked onto his trembling father. "I have a Category 4 medical emergency at the Vance Chalet. Extreme hypothermia. Pregnant female. I need a heavy-duty armored medical transport vehicle dispatched to my coordinates immediately. Use the military plow if you have to. Move."
He hung up and stood to his full height, stepping between his parents and his freezing wife.
"Liam, be reasonable," Richard tried to argue, puffing out his chest, trying to use his status. "This is my house. You cannot talk to your mother this way. We did what was best for the Sterling-Vance reputation. She didn't belong in our world."
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Liam walked up to his father, stopping a mere inch from his face. The sheer physical dominance of the trained Army Ranger made the older billionaire look fragile and pathetic.
"As of right now, Richard, you don't have a son," Liam said, his voice vibrating with absolute disgust. "And by tomorrow morning, you won't have an empire either."
