flash
The heavy iron door clicked shut behind Dr. Vance, echoing through the vaulted corridor like a falling gavel. Lorenzo didn’t look up from his desk. He already knew the verdict before the man spoke. He knew it by the way Vance’s loafers dragged against the imported Persian rug, and by the tight, sterile smell of hand sanitizer the physician carried with him like a shroud. / Chapter 19 / 20

Chapter 19 - The Final Trap

Lorenzo didn't panic. He didn't yell. He stood up slowly from his desk, walked to the window, and watched Lucas laughing down in the garden with Maria.

"Sal," Lorenzo said quietly, his voice dangerously steady.

"Ready, boss," Sal responded, stepping forward, his hand resting on his holster.

"Viktor thinks he’s hunting a ghost in a fortress. He thinks we're trapped behind these stone walls waiting for the blow to land." Lorenzo turned around, his slate-gray eyes flashing with predatory precision. "He forgot one simple rule of the East Coast: you don't wait for a wolf to breach the henhouse when you can burn the forest down around him."

"What do your orders say?" Sal asked, a grim smile touching the corner of his mouth.

"Double the security detail around Lucas, but keep it invisible. Let Viktor think the boy is exposed in the garden tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, you and I are going to take the black sedan for a little drive down to the Baltimore docks."

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The ink on the emergency audit report was barely dry when the secure terminal on my desk flashed a violent crimson. I hadn't slept in thirty-six hours, my eyes burning from staring at columns of ghost figures, duplicate invoices, and shell corporations linked to Dominic Rossi. But the red alert wasn’t from Rossi’s faction. It was an internal security flag originating from the estate’s main vault deep beneath the west wing.

The ink on the emergency audit report was barely dry when the secure ter...

The glass shattered into a thousand tiny diamonds on the marble, scattering the light from the chandeliers. The muffled laughter died instantly, replaced by a suffocating, heavy silence that crept outward from the grand staircase.

The glass shattered into a thousand tiny diamonds on the marble, scatter...

The heavy oak doors of my private study clicked shut behind us, locking out the clinical, terrifying silence of the kitchen. Evelyn Crane stood stiffly in front of my mahogany desk, her hands folded over her apron with the rigid precision of someone who had spent decades micromanaging every square inch of my estate. Behind her, Norah hovered near the doorway, clutching her clipboard like a shield.

The heavy oak doors of my private study clicked shut behind us, locking...

"And Viktor?"

"Tell the boys to prep the industrial incinerator," Lorenzo whispered coldly. "We have a package to return."

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