It was a dry, raspy sound that made me think of dead leaves scrapings.

“Eleanor was a fool,” the man said. “She thought she could just run away with her share.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Marcus Vance,” he said. “Then you know I do not bluff.”

“I know you are a thief who uses his family name to bully children,” I said.

“The Vance estate is mine,” Marcus said. “Eleanor was supposed to hand over the keys to the offshore accounts. Instead, she panicked and left the kids at O’Hare.”

“She left them because she knew I was coming for her,” I said.

“You are a businessman, Steel. Not a saint,” Marcus spat. “Give us the kids. We will sign over ten percent of the trust to you.”

“Ten percent?” I asked.

“It is more money than you will ever spend,” he said.

“I do not need your money,” I said. “And you are not getting the children.”

I looked down at the driveway.

The rain was coming down harder now, bouncing off the hoods of the security trucks.

The headlights of Marcus’s sedan flickered.