THE ORANGE JUICE BLOSSOM

The Vance Estate sat atop the high cliffs of Blackwood Ridge, overlooking the dark, expansive waters of the bay. It was a massive stone manor built in the 1920s, surrounded by high wrought-iron fences, ancient pine trees, and state-of-the-art security systems.

An hour later, the house was completely quiet.

In the master nursery on the second floor, the warm light of a small seashell nightlamp cast soft golden shapes across the walls. Maya lay tucked beneath a plush duck-patterned duvet, her blonde hair washed clean and smelling of sweet chamomile shampoo. She was fast asleep, her small chest rising and falling in a deep, peaceful rhythm, clutching a worn velvet teddy bear in her arm.

Alexander stood beside the crib, leaning his broad frame against the wooden rail. He had changed out of his velvet tuxedo into a simple black cashmere sweater and dark trousers. His eyes hadn't left his daughter’s face for thirty minutes.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the image of the cold, sticky orange juice pouring over her head. He saw her tiny hands covering her wet face. He saw the arrogant, triumphant sneer on Victoria Sterling’s face.

A quiet knock sounded at the nursery door.

Alexander turned his head silently. His house manager, an elderly, sharp-eyed man named Thomas who had served the Vance family for forty years, stood in the hallway holding a silver tray with a glass of scotch and a thick manila folder.

Alexander stepped quietly out of the nursery, closing the heavy wooden door until it clicked softly into place.

"Is she sleeping, sir?" Thomas asked in a low whisper.

"She's resting," Alexander said, taking the tumbler of scotch and taking a slow sip. The dark liquor burned down his throat, but it did nothing to quench the cold fire raging in his chest. "Report, Thomas."

Thomas opened the manila folder. "The legal filings were submitted forty minutes ago. The District Attorney, Mr. Vance, was personally present at the precinct when the officers brought Miss Sterling in. Given the public nature of the assault and the high-definition security footage we provided, bail was set at five million dollars."

"Has her father tried to post it?"

"Richard Sterling attempted to leverage his commercial real estate holdings to post bond," Thomas replied with a cold, professional smirk. "However, following your instruction to freeze their corporate credit lines, the bank placed an emergency lien on all Sterling assets at midnight. As of right now, Richard Sterling is bankrupt, and Victoria Sterling is sitting in a holding cell at the Central Magistrate."

Alexander walked toward his private study at the end of the hall, his shoes making no sound against the thick Persian rugs.

"And Arthur?" Alexander asked, stopping at his desk.

"Your brother left the hotel immediately after you departed," Thomas reported. "He has packed his bags at his apartment and is currently trying to book a flight to London. He knows his association with Miss Sterling has effectively ended his tenure at Vance Logistics."

Alexander sat down behind his heavy oak desk. The moonlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating his sharp, uncompromising profile.

"Let Arthur leave," Alexander said coldly. "He watched a child get abused and thought only of his own standing. He is no longer a Vance."

Alexander set his glass down on the desk, his gray eyes locking onto the dark window.

"What about the media?" Alexander asked.

"The video footage taken by the gala guests has already leaked onto social media, sir," Thomas said. "It is the number one trending story nationwide. The public outrage against Miss Sterling is... absolute."