I sucked in a breath. It was brutal, surgical, and executed from five thousand miles away in the middle of the night.
“Furthermore,” Robert went on, “the lease on his office space in Midtown is held by a Sinclair real estate trust. The property management company has been instructed to serve notice of lease termination for violation of morality clauses. He’ll have thirty days to vacate.”
Ben nodded, a faint smile touching his lips.
“We’ll add that to the financial pressure. With his income streams severed and his personal access to liquidity frozen by morning, he’ll be feeling a significant pinch.”
“I don’t want him to feel a pinch,” my father said, the ice in his voice enough to freeze the room. “I want him to feel a vice. Tighten it. Amelia, are you listening?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“This is the first move. He will panic. He will get angry. He will say things, try things. You do not engage. You are a black hole. You give him nothing. Ben and his team are your voice, your shield. You look after my grandson. Let us handle the rest. Understood?”
“Understood.”
The call ended. The silence that followed was charged.
“Your father is motivated,” Ben said dryly.
The intercom buzzed again before I could respond. A harsh, insistent sound. We all looked at the panel. Ben walked over to it.
“Don’t speak,” he instructed me.
He pressed the button.
“Yes?”
Tristan’s voice exploded through the speaker, crackling with fury.
“Who is this? Where’s Amelia? Amelia, open the goddamn door. The doorman won’t let me up, and my fob is dead. What kind of game are you playing?”
“Mr. Blackwood,” Ben said, his tone a model of calm professional neutrality, “this is Benjamin Carter of Carter Thorne Associates, representing Amelia Sinclair. I am advising you that you are not to attempt to gain access to this residence at this time.”
There was a stunned silence from the intercom. Then a disbelieving, half-hysterical laugh.
“Carter? What? Ben, what are you—put Amelia on the phone right now. This is insane.”
“I’m afraid I cannot do that, Mr. Blackwood. You have been served via digital delivery to your phone and email with several legal documents, including a temporary order of protection requiring you to stay at least five hundred feet away from Ms. Sinclair and the minor child, Liam Sinclair Blackwood, and granting her exclusive use of the marital residence. Any attempt to make contact or gain access will be a violation of a court order. I strongly suggest you review the documents and contact your own legal counsel.”
Another silence. This one was different. Thicker. More dangerous.
When Tristan’s voice came back, it was lower, dripping with venom.
“You… you set me up. You and that bitch and her fucking father. You think you can lock me out of my own home with my son? I’ll have your law license, Carter. I’ll burn it all down. Let me talk to my wife.”
Ben’s voice never wavered.
“Your access to the joint financial accounts has also been suspended pending a full audit due to concerns about commingling and potential misuse of marital assets. Again, I advise you to seek legal representation. Further communication should be directed to my office. Good night, Mr. Blackwood.”
He released the intercom button, cutting off the beginning of a stream of inarticulate shouts. The room went silent again, the echo of Tristan’s rage seeming to hang in the air. My heart was hammering against my ribs. I had never heard him sound like that. Ever. My phone started ringing again. Tristan. Then again. Again.
Ben looked at David.
“Is the process server in position?”
David checked his phone.
“Yes. He’s in the lobby.”
“Hell. Serve the hard copies the moment Mr. Blackwood turns away from the intercom.”
Ben nodded once, then looked at me. His expression softened, just a fraction.
“The first wave has landed. Amelia, he’s on the outside now. It’s going to get worse before it gets better. You need to sleep. Or try to. We’ll be here. Clara will stay in the guest room. The rest of us will be right outside in the hallway. The building security has been fully briefed. He’s not getting within fifty floors of you.”
I just nodded, numb. I walked back to the bedroom on unsteady legs. Liam was still sleeping peacefully, unaware of the siege happening just beyond the door. I lay down on the bed, still in my clothes, and stared at the ceiling. The phone on the nightstand finally stopped ringing. A minute later, a single text came through. I didn’t want to look, but I had to. The message was only two words, and they chilled me to my core. It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t an apology. It was a declaration of war from a man who suddenly had nothing left to lose.
You’ll regret this.
