Mrs. Harper’s knuckles turned white as she clutched the edge of the linen basket. The towels she had dropped lay scattered across the polished marble like fallen snow, but she didn’t bend down to pick them up.

Eleanor Sterling looked remarkably like her late sister, but where Isabella's photographs showed warmth and gentle grace, Eleanor’s face was carved from glacial ice. She wore a sharp charcoal trench coat, her silver-streaked blonde hair pulled back into a severe chignon, and her eyes swept over the grand foyer with the absolute disdain of a queen inspecting a peasant's hovel.

"Sweep the second floor," Eleanor commanded her tactical lead, her voice carrying crisp and clear through the panic room’s audio speakers. "I want the boys extracted within ten minutes. And find Vincent Moretti. If he attempts to resist, neutralize him."

My blood ran cold. Neutralize him. She wasn't just here to take the kids; she was here to eliminate Vincent and tie up every loose end once and for all.

I glanced at the monitor showing the ground-floor server room.

Vincent was there. On Camera 12, I watched him frantically typing a master override sequence into the central terminal console, his face illuminated by the flashing red lights of the server racks.

Suddenly, the server room door blew inward in a cloud of splintered wood and white smoke.

Two tactical operatives stormed the room, rifles raised. Vincent spun around, grabbing a heavy wrench from the maintenance kit on the desk and swinging it with all his might, catching the first operative across the tactical helmet. The man staggered back, but the second guard lunged forward, slamming the butt of his rifle into Vincent's shoulder.

Vincent went down hard, crashing against the metal server rack before slumping to the concrete floor.

"No!" I gasped out loud, my hands slamming against the steel console of the panic room.

On the screen, Eleanor Sterling walked slowly into the server room, stepping over the threshold with her polished leather boots. She looked down at Vincent, who was struggling to push himself up, blood trickling from a deep cut above his eyebrow.

"Oh, Vincent," Eleanor sighed, shaking her head with mock sorrow. "You really should have stayed out of the real estate business. You thought you could marry into our family, play the corporate titan, and keep Isabella's inheritance all to yourself."

Vincent spat a drop of blood onto the floor, glaring up at her with unyielding fury. "Isabella... Isabella figured out what your family was doing. She wanted out. And you murdered her on that bridge just like you tried to murder my boys."

Eleanor’s smile vanished, her eyes turning pitch-black. "Isabella was weak. She fell in love with a common-born contractor's son who got lucky in real estate. She forgot that the Sterling name isn't a family—it’s an institution. And institutions protect their assets."

She crouched down slightly, her face inches from his. "Where are the boys, Vincent? Tell me, and make this painless. Or watch as my men tear this ridiculous mansion apart brick by brick until we find them."

Vincent let out a harsh, defiant laugh. "Look around you, Eleanor. This house is wired with dead-man switches connected to federal wiretaps. The second your men breached my perimeter, an automated package was dispatched to the United States Attorney's Office containing every single medical record, bank transfer, and wiretap recording between Dr. Blake and your offshore accounts."

Eleanor’s face instantly lost its color. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" Vincent grinned, blood staining his teeth. "Check your encrypted phone right now. See if the federal grand jury hasn't already frozen every asset the Sterling Trust owns."

For a fraction of a second, panic flickered across Eleanor's face. She reached into her coat pocket, pulled out her secure satellite phone, and frantically pressed the screen.

That was the distraction Vincent needed.

With a sudden, explosive burst of adrenaline, Vincent lunged upward, slamming his heavy metal ring directly into Eleanor’s wrist. The phone flew from her hand, shattering against the server racks.

Before the guards could react, Vincent slammed his palm onto the master analog kill switch mounted on the wall beside him.

CLACK.