Chapter 5 - The Loyal HoundDominic forced a harsh, nervous laugh, trying to recover his footing. "You’re bluffing, Vin. You’ve been locked in this room for half a year. Your contacts have moved on. The syndicates don't deal with invalids."
"Try me," I whispered.
Before Dominic could respond, his cell phone buzzed violently in his tailored pocket. He pulled it out, frowning at the screen. A second later, Arya’s phone chimed. Then the landline on the bedside table started ringing in a steady, relentless rhythm.
Dominic swiped his screen, pressing the phone to his ear. "What? What do you mean the accounts are frozen? ... Who authorized a forensic audit? ... No, wait—what do you mean Corvino Prime has recalled all maritime transit rights?!"
His face turned the color of curdled milk. He stared at me as if I were a ghost that had crawled straight out of hell.
"You... you didn't," Dominic stammered, lowering the phone as if it had turned to fire in his hand. "You couldn't have authorized that from this room. You don't have access to the primary server keys without dual biometric confirmation!"
I smiled, a cold, sharp expression that didn't reach my eyes. "Technology has come a very long way, Dominic. Did you really think I spent six months staring at the ceiling without setting up a dead man’s switch? If my vital signs drop below a certain threshold—or if my personal account registry detects an unauthorized ownership transfer—the entire global network locks down instantly. Every ship we own is currently drifting in international waters, waiting for my voice print to dock."
Arya let out a sharp gasp, her hands flying to her mouth. "You've paralyzed the entire enterprise just to trap us?"
"I paralyzed nothing," I corrected her, locking my eyes onto hers. "You wanted a helpless invalid. You wanted someone you could wheel into a corner and forget. But you forgot one fundamental rule about Vincent Corvino: I don't lose control of my territory. I just changed the battlefield."
Dominic panicked, lunging forward as if he wanted to physically grab me by the collar. "You insane bastard! You're destroying millions of dollars in freight every minute those ships sit idle! Sign the release codes right now, or—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
The bedroom door swung open with a heavy thud. Standing in the doorway were two men in heavy trench coats, broad-shouldered and expressionless, flanked by private security guards.
At the front stood Marcus Vance, looking terrified, holding a digital tablet connected directly to my network. Behind them stood Tessa, her phone still pressed to her ear, lowering it slowly with a calm, professional smile.
"Mr. Corvino," one of the guards said, nodding respectfully in my direction. "The perimeter is secure. All unauthorized personnel have been locked out of the estate servers."
Dominic spun around, his face twisting in rage and terror. "Who the hell let you in? Security! Security!"
"There is no security left on your payroll, Mr. Vance," Tessa said smoothly, stepping forward from the shadow of the door. "I spent the last hour calling every single guard on the estate payroll. Turns out, when you pay people minimum wage and treat them like servants, they’re very easy to rehire when someone offers them double—especially when that someone actually owns the company."
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Arya stared at Tessa, her face contorted in sheer, unadulterated hatred. "You wretched little whore... you planned this with him?"
"I just do my job," Tessa replied coolly, adjusting her navy uniform sleeve. "And right now, my job is making sure the trash gets taken out."
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