Glass rained like silver shards across the matte-black hardwood of the penthouse bedroom. Adrien didn't flinch. His body had already shifted, a wall of dense muscle and tailored wool pressing Lena down against the plush rug behind the mahogany bed frame. / Chapter 6 / 20

Chapter 6 - THE VIPER IN THE SUITEHook: They escaped the ambush, but back at The Velvet Crown, a traitor is waiting—and they’ve already compromised the mainframe.

The armored SUV screeched to a halt in the underground private parking garage of The Velvet Crown. Smoke still clung to Adrien’s wool coat, and a shallow graze across his forearm bled sluggishly through his sleeve.

Dr. Bell met them at the security elevator, her medical bag clutched tightly in her hands.

"Thank God," she breathed, her eyes darting to Lena’s bruised frame. "The safe rooms are secure, but we have a major problem upstairs."

Adrien stepped out of the elevator, his expression darkening. "What kind of problem?"

"Dr. Bell is a lie," a smooth, cultured voice echoed from the end of the private corridor.

Adrien and Marco froze instantly. Their hands dropped to their sidearms.

Standing by the doorway of Adrien’s private study was a man in a bespoke charcoal suit, holding a silver-plated revolver pointed squarely at the center of Dr. Bell’s forehead. The real Dr. Bell was tied up and unconscious on the floor behind him.

"Step back, Viscari," the man said smoothly, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. "Drop your weapons or the doctor loses what's left of her medical license—permanently."

Lena gasped, recognizing the face immediately. It was Julian Vance—her former corporate mentor at the legal firm, a man who had always smiled politely in the hallways and offered career advice.

"Julian?" Lena whispered, stepping out from behind Adrien’s protective bulk. "What are you doing here?"

Julian smiled, a chilling, condescending expression. "Doing my job, my dear. Arthur Blake was a fool who grew a conscience. He hid you away, thinking he could play Robin Hood with the Rostova accounts. But some secrets are meant to stay buried in ash."

"You're the one who sent the envelopes to Marcus," Adrien stated, his voice a low, vibrating growl of pure menace.

"I am the one who manages the estate," Julian corrected coolly. "And little Lena here is the final signature required to transfer four hundred million dollars of Bratva blood money out of Swiss accounts and into my personal portfolio. Hand over the diary, Lena. Or I paint this hallway red."