Emma Reynolds did not ask the millionaire for money. She stood beside his table with a baby tied to her chest and whispered, “Sir, when you’re finished,

The heavy reinforced steel doors of the vault hissed open.

William stepped out into the dimly lit subterranean corridor alone, holding a leather folder in his hand.

At the far end of the hallway, the heavy security gates were blown open with a loud BANG.

Richard Vance marched down the hallway, flanked by four men in tactical uniforms carrying legal documents and sidearms.

"End of the line, Parker!" Vance shouted, his boots echoing against the concrete floor. "I have a federal order authorizing the immediate surrender of the infant Noah Sterling! Stand down or you will be arrested for obstruction of justice!"

William stood his ground in the center of the hallway, folding his arms. "You brought dirty marshals to a corporate office, Vance. Does your employer know you're making this much noise?"

Vance pulled a black hand-gun from his jacket, pointing it directly at William's chest. The marshals behind him looked uneasy, but none of them stopped him.

"My employers paid twenty million dollars to make sure that baby disappears," Vance snarled, stepping within ten feet of William. "Give me the locket and the kid, or you don't walk out of this basement alive."

William looked down at his watch.

Seven minutes elapsed.

"You're too late, Vance," William said calmly.

Vance frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Above them, through the concrete ceilings, the distant sound of blaring police sirens echoed down the elevator shafts—dozens of them, surrounding the entire city block.

"The file on that micro-drive wasn't just sent to the court," William said, his voice cold and steady. "It was broadcast live across three major news networks two minutes ago. Every federal prosecutor in the state of New York is watching Arthur Sterling's confession right now."