Chapter 7 - The Final Judgment
Behind me, the sound of boots echoed sharply against the hallway floor as Marcus and his tactical team secured the room.
"Boss, the perimeter is completely secure. Local law enforcement won't touch this sector for another hour, and our cleanup crew is inbound," Marcus reported, stepping into the nursery. He paused when he saw me holding Chloe, a rare, solemn expression crossing his rugged face. He looked down at Vincent, who was still slumped against the wall, clutching his bruised ribs.
"What do we do with him?" Marcus asked, nodding toward my brother.
I stood up, holding Chloe securely against my chest. She had fallen back asleep, exhausted from the terror and the blast, her breathing deep and rhythmic against my collarbone.
I walked over to where Vincent sat on the floor, looking up at me with pathetic, pleading eyes.
"Please, Julian... we're blood," Vincent whispered, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "You can't kill your own brother."
"No," I said coldly, looking down at the man who had stolen two years of my daughter's life. "Killing you would be a mercy, Vincent. And I am fresh out of mercies."
I looked at Marcus. "Put him in the lower hold of the freighter heading to Vladivostok tonight. Strip him of his accounts, strip him of his name, and make sure he spends the rest of his miserable life wondering when someone is going to finish what I started."
"Done," Marcus said, signaling two guards to haul Vincent to his feet.
As they dragged my brother screaming and thrashing down the hallway, I turned my back on the wreckage of the East Wing and walked toward the stairs.
May you like
My empire was intact. My daughter was back in my arms. But as I walked out into the cool, clearing rain toward the waiting Mercedes, I knew that everything had changed.
The lonely man eating by himself under a crystal chandelier was gone.
