Chapter 7 - The Cold Welcome
Gideon's private jet touched down at Farnborough Airport under a torrential downpour.
The storm had delayed him for twelve hours,
hours spent pacing the narrow cabin of the plane.
When the door opened,
the wind howled,
driving rain into his face.
He walked down the steps,
his expression grim,
followed closely by a trembling Barrett.
A black Mercedes was waiting on the tarmac,
the engine idling.
As Gideon reached for the door,
a man in a dark suit stepped forward from the shadows.
"Mr. Knightley?"
the man asked,
his voice clipped and professional.
"Move aside,"
Gideon growled,
trying to push past him.
The man didn't move,
instead holding out a thick white envelope.
"You have been formally served,
sir,"
the man said,
pressing the envelope against Gideon's chest.
"On behalf of Clara Sterling,
you are ordered to maintain a distance of five hundred yards.
All your joint assets in the United Kingdom have been frozen by court order."
Gideon stared at the envelope,
the rain soaking through the paper.
"This is ridiculous,"
he hissed,
tearing the packet open.
The legal jargon stared back at him,
stamped with the seal of the High Court.
He looked at Barrett,
his eyes wide with disbelief.
"Try the cards,"
Gideon ordered,
his voice dangerously quiet.
Barrett pulled out his corporate phone,
his fingers flying across the screen as he checked the accounts.
After a tense moment,
Barrett looked up,
his face completely white.
"They're locked,
sir.
Everything tied to the European sector is inaccessible."
Gideon let out a harsh,
bitter laugh that sounded like a bark.
She had anticipated his every move,
cutting off his resources before he even set foot on British soil.
The quiet girl who used to iron his shirts had just stripped the armor off a titan.
"Drive to her apartment,"
Gideon commanded,
stepping into the car.
"Sir,
the restraining order—"
Barrett started.
"I don't care about the order,"
Gideon roared,
May you like
slamming the door shut.
"Drive!"
