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Nathan’s hand froze on the doorknob. The digital clock on the dashboard of his car flashed 5:19 PM. A conference call had ended early, giving him an unexpected eleven minutes of freedom. He had smiled, thinking of surprising his second wife, Chloe, and his two children, six-year-old Leo and eight-year-old Maya. / Chapter 5 / 20

Chapter 5 - The StandoffThe barrel of the silenced pistol caught the moonlight, gleaming with a dull, lethal sheen.

Nathan’s mind raced at lightspeed. The cloud backup was gone. The physical files on the laptop were the only proof left, and Marcus was standing between Nathan and the stairs leading back up to that office. If Marcus got upstairs, he would wipe the laptop completely—and likely eliminate Maya and Leo to tie up loose ends.

"You think you've won," Nathan said, taking a slow step to the side, trying to keep Marcus's attention locked on him. "Even if you delete the files, the bank transfers left an indelible trail with international regulators. You can't hide thirty million dollars forever."

"Try us," Marcus sneered, taking a step forward. "By morning, my sister and I will be boarding a private yacht out of Miami, bound for a non-extradition country. And you? The police will find you dead in your living room, a tragic casualty of a botched home invasion by a desperate addict. Such a sad family tragedy."

Marcus’s finger tightened slightly on the trigger.

Now.

Nathan didn't aim for Marcus's chest. With explosive force, he hurled the heavy brass paperweight directly at the antique chandelier hanging right above Marcus's head, shattering the crystal bulbs and sending a massive cascade of glass and iron crashing downward.

Marcus cursed loudly, instinctively diving to the side to avoid the falling metal framework.

Nathan didn't hesitate. He sprinted past Marcus toward the staircase, taking three steps at a time.

"Shoot him! Stop him!" a sharp, breathless voice echoed from the front entryway.

Nathan glanced back over his shoulder. Chloe had just unlocked the front door and stepped inside, her eyes wide with frantic rage. She had returned to watch the execution.

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Marcus scrambled to his feet, leveling the pistol toward the stairs just as Nathan reached the second-floor landing. A muffled thip sounded, and a bullet hissed past Nathan’s ear, embedding itself deeply into the wooden drywall with a hollow thud.

Nathan slammed the office door shut, throwing the heavy deadbolt just as a heavy boot slammed against the outside panel, nearly cracking the wood.

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