Vincent Moretti collapsed into his leather armchair as the heavy oak doors clicked shut behind Noah and me.
The sound of the latch engaging sounded like the final gavel of a supreme court passing an irreversible sentence of death.
Sophia remained on the floorboards, her tears smearing her expensive cosmetics into a grotesque, clownish mask of defeat.
Ethan turned on his heel and fled down the carpeted hallway of the hotel, his loud sobs echoing against the wallpapered walls.
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“Get her out of my sight, Frank,” Vincent whispered, covering his eyes with a large, trembling hand.
“Take her to the airport, put her on the commercial charter to Chicago, and place two guards at the gates of Lake Forest,” he commanded.
“Understood, Vincent,” Frank Vance replied, gesturing to two armed security men who hauled the weeping woman to her feet.
Sophia screamed curses as she was dragged through the doorway, her promises of legal warfare dying out as the elevator chime sounded.
