Reborn From Fire: The Billionaire's Obsession

Five years later.

The rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Manhattan penthouse.

Everette Baird stood in the dark, staring out at the city. His face was a mask of stone. He raised the crystal glass in his hand and swallowed the amber whiskey in one brutal gulp. His Adam's apple rolled as the alcohol burned its way down his throat.

He turned and walked to the wall safe. He punched in a long, complex code. The heavy steel door clicked open.

He reached inside and pulled out a framed photograph. The edges of the picture were charred black. Inside the frame was Deliah, smiling at him from five years ago.

Everette traced the curve of her cheek through the glass with his thumb. His chest ached, a constant, hollow throb that never stopped. His eyes darkened with a familiar, obsessive madness.

The door to the living room opened. His executive assistant, Joshua Nolan, stepped in.

"Mr. Baird, the itinerary for Wall Street today is ready," Joshua said quietly.

Everette didn't look up from the photo. "Short them. Every single rival firm trying to acquire Baird Capital. Short them into the ground."

Joshua felt the drop in the room's temperature. He nodded, stepping forward to hand over a thick acquisition contract.

Everette didn't read a single word. He took the pen and slashed his signature across the bottom line, then turned and strode toward his private elevator.

Miles away, the arrival hall of Terminal 4 at JFK International Airport was a chaotic sea of noise.

Deliah Buck pushed a luggage cart through the customs exit. Exhaustion weighed down her bones.

Five-year-old Leo Buck sat on top of the suitcases, his small legs kicking back and forth. He was twisting a Rubik's cube in his hands, his amber eyes scanning the crowd.

Deliah looked down at her phone. The screen displayed an interview notification from a top architectural firm. She rubbed her temples, a dull headache forming behind her eyes.

Leo noticed the tension in her shoulders. "Mom, let's go to the VIP lounge. You need coffee."

Deliah smiled, a genuine warmth spreading in her chest. She reached out and ruffled his dark hair. "Thank you, baby."

She pushed the cart toward the Air France first-class lounge. The heavy glass doors slid open, shutting out the noise of the terminal. Deliah parked the cart next to a secluded leather sofa in the corner.

She sat down, holding a cup of hot latte. The exhaustion of the transatlantic flight finally caught up to her. She leaned her head back against the leather. Her eyelids fluttered, and within seconds, she fell into a deep sleep.

Leo immediately stopped twisting the Rubik's cube.

He slipped quietly off the luggage. He unzipped his backpack, pulled out a soft cashmere coat, and stood on his tiptoes to drape it carefully over his mother's shoulders.

Once he was sure she was asleep, Leo reached deeper into his mini backpack and pulled out a sleek, black portable laptop.

He flipped it open. His small fingers flew across the keyboard. Lines of green code cascaded down the black screen.

Within seconds, he bypassed the airport's internal security network. The live feeds from every camera in Terminal 4 popped up on his screen.

Leo typed a command into the facial recognition program he had built. He was looking for a specific target.

The screen flashed through hundreds of faces before locking onto a tall, broad-shouldered man walking near the VIP security checkpoint.

A profile popped up next to the face. Everette Baird. Billionaire. Single. No children.

Leo stared at the cold, handsome face on the screen. He rubbed his chin, a very un-childlike smirk forming on his lips.

He shut the laptop and shoved it back into his bag. He glanced at his sleeping mother, then slipped away from the sofa.

Leo dodged the lounge attendants, his small frame easily avoiding their line of sight. He slipped through the automatic glass doors.

He looked up at the terminal signs, orienting himself toward the VIP checkpoint.

Then, he started running. He moved like a heat-seeking missile, heading straight for the man he had chosen to be his perfect stepfather.