Chapter 8 - The Shadow from LondonIsabel dropped her mug.
The ceramic cup shattered against the hardwood floor, sending shards and hot tea scattering in all directions. The color drained entirely from her face, leaving her looking ghostly white under the warm penthouse lights.
"Victor..." she whispered, her hands trembling violently as she stood up. "He found me."
Julian crossed the room in two long strides, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Who is he, Isabel? Talk to me. Why are men linked to a European shipping syndicate tracking you down?"
Before Isabel could answer, the penthouse security monitor on the wall flickered to life.
The camera feed from the ground-floor lobby showed four men in dark suits stepping out of the elevator. They moved with military precision, bypassing the front desk and heading straight for the private elevator shaft—the one that required Julian’s personal biometric override.
BZZZT.
The private elevator light flashed green. Someone had just bypassed the penthouse security lockdown using a high-grade military decryption key.
"Julian, we have to hide Mateo," Isabel gasped, panic clutching at her throat. "Victor Vance is my stepbrother. My father left our shipping estate to me, not him. When I refused to sign over the controlling shares six years ago, Victor threatened to destroy everyone I ever loved. That’s why I ran to New York. That’s why I left you!"
Julian’s eyes darkened into a terrifying storm. The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place with lethal clarity.
"Nobody touches my family," Julian snarled.
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He unlatched the top drawer of his executive desk, pulling out a sleek, matte-black Sig Sauer pistol—a relic from his college days before he traded physical defense for corporate warfare—and checked the magazine with a practiced click.
The private elevator doors at the end of the long hallway began to slide open with a heavy, metallic groan.
