Chapter 5 - THE RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK"Get the girls in the armored SUV," Dominic commanded, his voice ringing with absolute, terrifying authority. "Marcus, call the clean-up crew. We are heading back right now."
The rain was coming down in sheets, turning the highway into a black, slick ribbon of danger. Dominic’s SUV tore through the night at breakneck speeds, its engine roaring like a caged beast.
In the back seat, Claire held her sister tight, her eyes fixed on Dominic’s rigid back in the front passenger seat.
"Dominic," Claire said softly over the hum of the tires. "Vance isn't just going to leak your files. He wants you ruined publicly. That’s why he wanted the wedding date publicized. He wants to destroy you in front of every major elite family in the country."
"Let him try," Dominic said without turning around. "Vance thinks he’s stealing my crown. But he doesn't realize I left the gates open on purpose."
Claire blinked, stunned. "What?"
"You really think a man who built an empire on blood and paranoia leaves his core servers connected to the main network?" Dominic’s lips curled into a cold, dangerous smile. "The files in that vault aren't my real ledgers, Claire. They’re a honeypot. A digital tripwire designed to track every single IP address that tries to download them."
Marcus, driving the vehicle, let out a sharp, appreciative laugh. "The trap is already set, Boss. The moment Vance accesses those files, his entire financial network gets locked down by our counter-protocols. We aren't just defending the house. We're about to swallow Vance’s entire empire whole."
"Then let's go collect our prize," Dominic said.
When the armored SUV crested the hill leading to the Hale estate, the grand iron gates were wide open. Flashing red and blue lights were nowhere to be found, but the mansion’s exterior lights were completely dark, giving the sprawling estate the appearance of a tomb.
Dominic stepped out of the vehicle into the pouring rain, his hand resting comfortably on his holster.
"Marcus, secure the perimeter. Claire, stay in the car with Paige."
"No," Claire said, stepping out of the SUV into the mud, her expression iron-hard. "I helped get us into this mess. I'm going to watch you clean it up."
Dominic looked at her for a long moment, then nodded once. "Stay behind me. No heroics."
They moved up the grand stone steps and pushed open the massive front doors. The foyer was dead silent. The only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the antique clock echoing down the hallway—the very clock that four-year-old Lily had pointed at hours ago.
Dominic walked toward his private study, his boots clicking rhythmically on the polished marble.
The study door was ajar. A warm, golden glow spilled out from inside.
Dominic kicked the door open wide, his weapon raised.
Sitting in the leather armchair was Victor Vance. He was holding Dominic’s glass of scotch, swirling the amber liquid lazily. Two of Vance’s heavily armed mercenaries stood by the bookshelves, their rifles aimed right at the doorway.
"Welcome home, Dominic," Vance smiled, taking a sip of the drink. "I must admit, your security is usually much harder to bypass. But money talks, and your chief of security—what was his name? Jack?—had a very reasonable price."
"Jack is currently rethinking his life choices in a concrete hole three miles from here," Dominic replied smoothly, stepping into the room with absolute calm.
Vance’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but he quickly recovered, chuckling softly. "Pity. But it doesn't matter. The download is at ninety-eight percent. Your entire criminal legacy is about to become public property."
"Is it?" Dominic asked. He glanced at the antique clock on the wall.
The tiny green light behind the wooden panel wasn't blinking anymore. It was glowing a steady, solid amber.
"You really think I store my secrets on a local server, Victor?" Dominic walked over to his desk, picked up his fountain pen, and twirled it between his fingers. "You downloaded a virus. A self-replicating worm that just wormed its way into every shell corporation, offshore bank account, and drug tunnel you own."
Vance’s face drained of color. He slammed his glass down onto the desk, standing up abruptly. "You're bluffing."
"Check your phone, Victor," Dominic whispered.
Vance’s hand trembled as he pulled his encrypted smartphone from his pocket. The screen flashed bright red. A single notification blinked in bold capital letters: ACCOUNT FROZEN. ASSETS SEIZED. PROTOCOL ZERO INITIATED.
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"No…" Vance whispered, his eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated horror. "No, that's impossible. My system is encrypted by—"
"By the same engineers I bought off three years ago," Dominic interrupted, his voice dropping like an anvil. "You thought you were hunting the king, Victor. But you just walked yourself right into the executioner's block."
