Chapter 4 - MIDNIGHT RECKONING
The executive subterranean level of the Grand Alcazar was restricted to high-clearance personnel only—a sprawling underground bunker containing the hotel's server rooms, security hubs, and private suites for VIPs who preferred to bypass the public eye entirely.
Marcus Vance sat in his plush leather executive chair, swirling a glass of twenty-year-old scotch, a triumphant smirk plastered across his face. On the monitor in front of him, live security feeds showed Julian pacing in his penthouse.
"Keep watching him," Marcus told the security guard standing by the door. "The moment he leaves the suite to look for the girl, trigger the lockdown protocol in Sector Four. Let’s see how the great Julian Rossi handles being locked in a maze with no way out."
Before the guard could reach the console, the heavy steel reinforced door of the executive office exploded inward in a shower of splintered wood and flying metal bolts.
Marcus leaped out of his chair, dropping his glass. It shattered on the marble floor, amber liquid splashing across his Italian leather shoes.
Stepping through the ruined doorway was Julian Rossi, flanked by four armed tactical operatives in black gear. Behind them, pushed forward by Bane, was a terrified Victor Vance, his arms zip-tied behind his back.
"Marcus," Julian said smoothly, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets as he strolled into the room as if he owned the place—which, legally speaking, he did.
"Julian! What the hell is the meaning of this?!" Marcus stammered, frantically trying to regain his corporate composure, adjusting his tie with shaking fingers. "This is private property! I’ll have you arrested for breaking and entering, assault—"
"Property?" Julian cut him off, letting out a dry, humorless laugh. "Marcus, you absolute fool. You’ve been working as my general counsel for six years, and you still don't read the fine print of your own employment contract. Every square inch of this hotel, every shell company you set up, and every fake medical clinic you funneled money through is legally anchored to my mother's primary trust. You didn't steal an empire, Marcus. You embezzled from my personal family fund."
Marcus’s face turned the color of ash. "That's... that's impossible. The audits—"
"The audits were faked by your cousin Victor," Julian interrupted, stepping closer until he was towering right over Marcus's desk. "Just like you faked my wife's disappearance. Just like you threatened an innocent woman and her dying brother."
Victor groaned from the floor where Bane had shoved him. "Marcus, tell him! Tell him about the girl! If he finds out where she is—"
"Shut your mouth, you idiot!" Marcus shrieked, lunging across the desk to grab a heavy brass letter opener.
It was a pathetic attempt.
Before Marcus's fingers could even brush the metal, Julian’s fist connected with his jaw with the force of a freight train. Marcus crashed backward over his desk, sending papers, laptops, and files flying in every direction before hitting the floor unconscious.
May you like
Julian shook out his hand, his expression cold and unforgiving.
"Bane," Julian ordered, stepping over Marcus's limp body. "Find out which room Elena was transferred to. We are checking out of this hotel tonight—and we are taking every single piece of trash with us."
