Chapter 50 - The Snow and the Black Mercedes
I hauled myself up onto the frozen earth, tumbling face-first into two feet of fresh alpine powder. The contrast was blinding; after hours in the subterranean darkness, the moonlit snow seemed to burn my retinas.
Ignoring the biting wind, I immediately leaned back into the opening, extending my arms downward. "Khloe! Give me the baby first!"
Khloe appeared at the rim, her face blue, her lips trembling uncontrollably. She carefully passed the swaddled newborn up to me. I took the child, tucking her deep inside the dry interior of my fleece jacket, keeping her close to my body heat. Then I grabbed Khloe by both wrists and pulled her out of the abyss.
She collapsed beside me in the snow, curling into a fetal position, gasping for air. The wind howled across the mountain ridge, blowing a blinding blizzard off the peak. We were standing on a high rocky plateau overlooking the dark expanse of Lake Zurich far below. Down on the water's edge, half a mile down the mountain, flashing blue and red lights were already converging on the submerged clinic’s private dock. Emergency sirens drifted up through the pines like mournful wails.
"We can't stay here," I said, my teeth chattering violently as I pulled Khloe to her feet. "The temperature is below zero. We have fifteen minutes before hypothermia takes this child."
"Where... where do we go?" Khloe whispered, her legs wobbling like cooked string.
Through the trees fifty yards ahead, nestled in a small clearing beside a service road, sat a low-profile maintenance shed. Parked beneath its corrugated metal overhang was a heavy, matte-black Mercedes-Benz G-Wagon—the security transport vehicle Catherine had undoubtedly kept on standby for alpine extraction.
"There," I pointed.
We trudged through waist-deep snowbanks, the icy crust cutting through our soaked trousers. Every step was an uphill battle against exhaustion. By the time we reached the vehicle, Khloe had to lean heavily against the rear fender just to keep from falling.
I approached the driver’s side. The window was slightly cracked. I reached for the handle—it was unlocked. But as I opened the heavy door, the vehicle's interior touchscreen console flashed to life automatically.
A low chime chimed through the vehicle’s high-end speakers.
The center display didn't show a navigation map. It displayed a live, encrypted satellite video feed.
Sitting in what appeared to be the plush leather interior of a private jet cabin, holding a crystal tumbler of whiskey, was Isabella.
Her hair was styled immaculately, her face devoid of the frantic panic she had performed back on the Boston pier. On the screen, her cold, calculating eyes flickered directly toward the dash camera, recognizing the vehicle’s activation.
*"Catherine? Did Weiss finish the procedure?"* Isabella asked calmly, her voice crystal clear over the satellite audio. *"The Boston authorities are looking for me, but my flight just cleared British airspace. Did you secure the second twin?"*
Khloe froze. Her entire frame went rigid as the voice of her sister echoed into the freezing alpine night.
She shoved past me, leaning into the open door of the G-Wagon, staring directly at the camera mounted above the rearview mirror.
"Isabella," Khloe said.
The silence on the other end of the line was absolute.
On the screen, Isabella’s glass stopped halfway to her lips. The color drained from her face, leaving her as pale as the snow swirling around our heads. For the first time since this nightmare began, the mask of the untouchable socialite shattered completely, revealing the naked terror beneath.
*"Khloe...?"* Isabella whispered, her voice hitching. *"That’s... that’s impossible. Anthony was supposed to—"*
"Anthony is dead," Khloe spoke with a dead, icy certainty that chilled me deeper than the blizzard. "Catherine is dead at the bottom of Lake Zurich. And I am holding my daughter."
Isabella swallowed hard, her hand beginning to shake on the screen. *"Khloe, listen to me... you don't understand what Catherine was going to do to you. I did what I had to do to keep you alive! If I hadn't taken the first baby—"*
"You sold my life before I was even born," Khloe cut her off, her voice dropping into a register of terrifying calm. "Where is my other baby, Isabella? Where is my son?"
Isabella’s eyes darted sideways on the screen, toward an ornate white bassinet secured to the bulkhead seat across from her.
*"He’s safe,"* Isabella whispered, her voice tightening as her panic turned back into desperate venom. *"He’s with me. And you will never touch him, Khloe. Because without Catherine, the trust fund in Zurich defaults to the surviving legal guardian of the first-born twin. That’s me. The paperwork was filed in Panama this morning. If you come after me, I’ll disappear with him into South America, and you will never see his face again."*
"Isabella—"
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*"Goodbye, sister,"* Isabella said, and slammed her finger onto the screen.
The feed went black.
