Attempted Kidnapping
Remi’s POV
I pressed the electric door button with more force than necessary, checking my phone for the third time in a row. Still no response.
Voicemail.
Again.
“Come on, Rowan,” I muttered under my breath.
After dropping the twins at Ms. Isolde place, personally, not trusting a single soul after that picture—and sending Jo home to rest, I drove straight here.
The Vaughn Industries headquarters towered above me like some untouchable citadel. But I wasn’t here to be turned away.
I walked through the glass doors, heels clicking with purpose. The receptionist barely had time to blink before I was already halfway to the private elevator.
I lifted my badge—old but still functional.
“Ma’am—uh, excuse me—”
“Remi Laurent. I’m here to see Rowan.”
“Dr. Laurent, I think you’ll need to—”
I didn’t stop. “He’s expecting me.”
Not technically true, but I was done waiting.
I was almost to the elevator when a sharp voice froze me mid-step.
“Well. If it isn’t the ghost of poor decisions past.”
I closed my eyes, jaw locking.
Not today.
I turned slowly to face her.
Martha Vaughn.
Rowan’s mum, well aunt since Rowan have told me who they really her, the one who’d raised him. The one who looked at me like I was something she scraped off her designer shoe. And beside her stood an older woman with short, slicked-back silver hair and an elegant navy dress. I didn’t recognize her.
“I’m not here to argue,” I said coolly.
Martha raised a brow. “Of course you’re not. You’re here to cling. Like ivy. Determined to choke everything in sight. Probably kill them too.”
I swallowed, keeping my tone even. “I came to see Rowan.”
“And he doesn’t want to see you.”
“You don’t speak for him.”
“I raised him,” she snapped. “I know what’s best for him. And right now, that’s distance from whatever toxic little game you’re playing.”
I took a step forward. “Toxic? You mean like hiding his marriage from him? Keeping the truth about his life a secret? Manipulating his memory while he was vulnerable?”
Her face went stone cold. “Security. From The likes of you.”
She waved at a nearby guard, who immediately began walking over.
“No,” I said sharply, turning to the guard. “Don’t touch me.”
“She’s not authorized to be here,” Martha said, voice like steel. “Escort her out—now.”
I stiffened, planting my feet.
If they wanted to drag me out, they were going to have to do it with cameras rolling.
The older woman beside Martha finally spoke.
“I think that’s enough.”
Martha turned, blinking. “Excuse me?”
“I said, it’s enough, Martha.” The woman stepped forward, voice calm, eyes sharp. “She’s not making a scene. You are.”
Martha scoffed. “She’s trespassing.”
“She’s his surgeon. His ex wife and seeing she is here. She must be his friend.”
Silence.
Martha’s face paled.
My heart beat loudly in my ears.
“How—” she started.
The woman cut her off. “Let her speak to him. If you truly believe you’re acting in Rowan’s best interest, you’d let him decide what’s best for himself.”
I didn’t know who this woman was—but I wanted to hug her.
Martha’s lips tightened, but she didn’t speak again. She simply turned, muttering something under her breath as she walked away.
The guard lingered awkwardly.
“You’re dismissed,” the silver-haired woman told him gently.
He nodded and left.
She turned to me.
“I’m Elena. Rowan’s great aunt. His grandfather’s sister.”
My jaw nearly dropped.
The family historian.
The one the Vaughns never mentioned. I’d heard her name whispered once—maybe twice—back when I was still part of this world.
“I didn’t think anyone in this family would ever—”
“I know what they’ve done,” she said simply. “And I’ve kept quiet for too long.”
I blinked, stunned.
She nodded toward the elevator. “Go. He should be in. Just… brace yourself. He’s had a rough couple of days.”
My chest squeezed. He has?
I hope I am not stressing him by being here.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
She smiled faintly. “Tell him Elena says he owes me tea.”
The elevator doors slid open and I stepped inside, clutching the keycard in my hand like it meant something more than access. Like it might hold answers. Maybe peace.
The silence in the lift was heavy. Too heavy. I adjusted my coat, checked my phone again. No messages. Just the one I’d already seen. That blurry image of my kids. And that threat.
The ding at the top floor startled me.
I stepped out.
This floor was too polished. Too quiet. The Vaughn family floor. Everyone turned when they saw me. I could feel it in their eyes—even if they didn’t speak. A few whispers floated through the air like smoke. I didn’t stop.
I reached the reception desk. A young woman with short brown hair and a perfectly practiced smile looked up.
“Dr. Laurent?” she asked, already rising to her feet.
I nodded.
She gave me a pass without hesitation. “You’re clear. Word have reached from below. Mr. Vaughn’s office is down that hall. Last door on the right.”
I barely nodded. My feet moved on instinct.
“Do you have an appointment?” a man stepped out of a side room, tall and unsure, clipboard in hand.
“No. But I’m not leaving. I have been allowed to see him.”
His brows rose. “I’m afraid Mr. Vaughn—”
“She’s cleared,” the receptionist called gently.
He hesitated, then picked up the desk phone. “Sir, I know you said you didn’t want to be disturbed, but—”
I walked forward. Reached across the counter and took the receiver from him.
“Rowan,” I said, breathless. “It’s me. Remi.”
There was silence. A full beat. And then:
“The door’s open,” his voice said, low, almost stunned. “Come in.”
I gave the phone back, my heart racing. I barely noticed the curious glances as I made my way to the door at the end of the hall. A massive set of double doors—oak, dark, expensive.
I pushed them open.
Rowan was standing behind his desk, sleeves rolled, hair slightly messy. A stack of papers in front of him, his jacket hung over the back of a chair.
He looked like he hadn’t slept.
He didn’t say a word as his eyes locked onto mine.
“Remi,” he finally said, voice tight. “What happened?”
I took a few more steps into the room. “I tried calling. You didn’t answer.”
“I was in meetings.”
“Someone tried to take my children.”
His face froze. “What?”
“This morning.” I swallowed hard. “There was a threat sent to me. A blurry photo of the kids with a message. I thought it was nothing but when I went to pick them up, someone actually tried to—” My voice cracked. “If the security at the school wasn’t alert—”
He was already rounding the desk.
“Are they okay?” he asked.
“They’re shaken. Larry cried.”
Rowan stopped in front of me. “Larry never cries.”
“I know.”
His jaw tightened. “Do we know who?”
“I don’t have proof. But I have a strong feeling. The person wrote that I should have taken Gigi's offer. It has to be her. Or related to her but I am sure that's its...”
“Gigi.”
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