Chapter 3 - The Return of the PatriarchAt 4:00 AM, the heavy thud of a twin-engine helicopter echoed across the grounds of the Blackwood estate as Robert Blackwood landed on the private rear helipad.
The thirty-eight-year-old tech billionaire scrambled out of the aircraft, his dark suit disheveled, his face pale with utter, catatonic terror. He sprinted through the glass doors of the terrace, bursting into the main hallway where I stood waiting.
"WHERE ARE MY DAUGHTERS?!" Robert roared, his voice cracking with unbearable grief. "WHERE ARE EMILY AND SARAH?!"
"They're upstairs, Mr. Blackwood," I said gently, stepping forward to catch his arm before he stumbled on the marble floor. "They are safe. They are warm, fed, and resting under medical supervision."
Robert collapsed flat onto his knees right there in the foyer, burying his face in his hands as heavy, silent sobs shook his broad shoulders.
I crouched beside the billionaire—a man whose corporate decisions moved global markets—and waited quietly until his breathing stabilized.
Ten minutes later, Robert sat in the private nursery upstairs, holding Emily on his left knee and Sarah on his right. The two little girls clung to his neck, their small hands tangled in his dark hair, giggling softly as he kissed their foreheads over and over again.
"Daddy..." Sarah whispered, holding up her small paper cup. "Officer Miller bought us chocolate."
Robert looked up at me, his hazel eyes swimming with tears of profound, unshakeable gratitude.
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"You saved my world, Officer Miller," Robert rasped, his baritone thick with emotion. "I was blind... I trusted Jennifer with my home, with my daughters... I didn't see the snake in my own house."
"The snake is in a federal holding cell tonight, Mr. Blackwood," I assured him softly. "And she won't ever touch your family again."
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