The ink on the document stared back at me, sharp and undeniable. My grandfather’s sprawling, authoritative signature sat directly beside the name of a man whose very memory had been violently erased from the Whitmore household.

The lobby of the Keane-Whitmore Center was dead silent as the elevator doors chimed open on the ground floor.

I stepped out, holding the titanium briefcase loosely by the handle. The two mercenaries immediately trained their laser sights on my chest. Sterling stood in the center of the polished marble floor, looking entirely at ease, leaning slightly on an elegant silver-tipped cane.

"Punctual," Sterling noted, his cold eyes sweeping over me. "You look remarkably like your grandfather, Adrian. He had that same look of righteous indignation right before he ordered me to ruin someone's life."

"My grandfather was a coward who hid behind men like you," I replied, walking slowly toward the center of the room, stopping ten feet away. "Let the staff go."

Sterling waved a dismissive hand, and the mercenary shoved the terrified guard toward the exit. "You have the drive?"

"I do," I said, lifting the case slightly. "Where is the abort code?"

Sterling reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, encrypted digital fob. "The code is on this drive. Hand over the case, and we conclude our business."

"How do I know the code works?"

"You don't," Sterling said smoothly. "But considering the alternative is the complete financial annihilation of your beloved foundation and the city of Boston, I suggest you take the leap of faith."

I stared at him, the seconds ticking down in my head. Miller and Claire needed at least another three minutes to bypass the security locks on the primary breaker room.

"You built an empire on blood, Sterling," I said, stalling for time, keeping my voice steady. "My family spent fifty years bleeding this city dry because you designed the system to reward cruelty. Why come back now? The empire is gone."

"The empire is never gone, Adrian," Sterling hissed, his polite veneer cracking for the first time, revealing the fanatical malice beneath. "It merely changes form. You think you can erase fifty years of legacy by handing out charity grants and building affordable housing? You are a temporary glitch in the system. The Whitmore name belongs to power, not pity. Project Lazarus will cleanse this city of your weakness, and from the ashes, I will rebuild what your grandfather and I started."

He took a step forward, extending his hand. "The case. Now."

I glanced subtly at the reflection in the glass doors. A faint green light blinked on the security panel near the stairwell—Miller’s signal. They were in position.

"You're right about one thing, Sterling," I said, my voice dropping to a low, lethal register. "The empire is never gone. It just learned how to fight back."

I threw the titanium briefcase as hard as I could, not at Sterling, but directly at the reinforced glass wall of the lobby.

"Now, Marissa!" I shouted into the hidden comms unit in my collar.