Chapter 1 - THE TURN OF THE HANDLEThe brass handle of the penthouse suite turned slowly, clicking as the latch disengaged.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, yet my mind locked into a cold, lethal focus. Emily gripped my forearm so hard her fingernails dug into my skin, her eyes wide with terror as she stared at the heavy oak door. Little Lily whimpered softly in her sleep, sensing the sudden spike of tension in the room.
"Get into the panic room behind the study wall," I whispered, pressing my finger to my lips. "Now."
Emily didn't hesitate. Clutching Lily tightly against her chest, she slipped silently down the hallway just as the door swung open.
Standing on the threshold was not a hotel maid or room service, but Marcus Vance—my mother’s head of security and personal fixer. Dressed in a sharp charcoal suit that somehow looked sinister under the hallway lights, Marcus stepped inside without an invitation, his eyes sweeping the room with cold suspicion.
"Mr. Kincaid," Marcus said, his voice flat and devoid of warmth. "Your mother sent me. She noticed you weren't answering your primary cell phone, and she wants to make sure you're ready for the board meeting at seven."
I stood my ground, leaning casually against the back of the sofa, masking the absolute fury churning inside my stomach. Marcus had probably supervised the very people who held Emily captive for two years. He was the monster's right hand.
"My phone was on silent, Marcus. I was dealing with a private matter," I replied, letting a cold, arrogant edge creep into my tone—the exact persona I had cultivated for years to keep my mother convinced I was weak and easily manipulated.
Marcus took two slow steps further into the suite, his gaze lingering on a damp footprint near the entryway. "A private matter? You're wet. And the penthouse smells like ozone and old rain. Were you outside?"
"I stepped out to clear my head," I snapped, stepping into his personal space to assert dominance. "Since when does my mother send her lapdog to check if I'm breathing? Am I under house arrest, or are you just overstepping your bounds?"
Marcus blinked, taken aback by my sudden aggression. For two years, I had been a quiet, compliant ghost of a man, swallowed by grief. Pushing back was out of character, and I saw the cogs turning in his head.
"Of course not, sir. Mrs. Kincaid only worries about your readiness for tonight. The acquisition of the maritime shipping portfolio goes to vote. She expects you flawless." Marcus's eyes darted toward the hallway. "Is anyone else here?"
"Just my ghosts, Marcus," I said softly, locking eyes with him. "Tell my mother I’ll be at the boardroom in forty minutes. Alone."
Marcus held my gaze for a long, agonizing moment before nodding stiffly. "Don't keep her waiting, Daniel. She hates being disappointed."
He turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, walked over to the security monitor, and watched as Marcus stepped into the elevator. The moment the doors closed, I unlocked the panic room. Emily stepped out, shaking from head to toe.
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"He almost saw us," she whispered.
"He saw nothing," I said, my voice hardening. "Because phase two has officially begun. Emily, stay here. Lock all inner doors. My federal investigator is already moving in. By the time I walk into that boardroom, Victoria Kincaid’s empire is going to burn to the ground."
