Chapter 2 - The Empty ChairLater that evening, the tension inside Ashford House reached a boiling point.
In the grand dining room, beneath crystal chandeliers that had witnessed decades of shady handshakes and corporate takeovers, Margaret Ashford sat at the head of the long mahogany table.
She was seventy, sharp-tongued, and diamond-dripping, wearing a black silk dress that looked less like evening wear and more like mourning attire.
Around her sat four of the organization’s most powerful captains: Victor Vance, Leo Moretti, Julian Cross, and Walter Pike, who had traded his steward’s jacket for a seat at the table.
An empty chair sat at the opposite end.
Gabriel’s chair.
“He’s been gone fifteen hours,” Margaret announced, her voice slicing through the clatter of silverware. She didn't look worried; she looked calculating. “His phone went dark outside the North Shore docks. The Delaney family denies any involvement, but we all know what a Delaney promise is worth.”
“If Gabriel was taken, we hit them tonight,” Julian Cross growled, his knuckles white against his water glass. “We tear their warehouses apart until he’s back.”
“And if he isn't taken?” Margaret countered smoothly, taking a slow sip of red wine. “If he simply miscalculated? Gabriel has spent the last two years trying to dismantle our grandfather’s infrastructure. He wanted to legitimize the holdings. He wanted to sell off our private contracts. He’s made plenty of enemies within our own ranks, gentlemen.”
Walter Pike cleared his throat, adjusting his collar. “Mrs. Ashford is right. A weak leader brings a weak house. If Gabriel cannot protect himself, we must prepare for a transition of power.”
Evelyn, standing quietly in the shadows near the service doors with a silver coffee pot, felt her blood run cold.
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They weren't looking for him.
They were holding a funeral for a living man so they could divide his empire before the sun came up.
