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🚨 THE KESTREL BETRAYAL: WHEN THE MILLIONAIRE’S LIES CRUMBLED INTO THE RIVER 🚨 / Chapter 2 / 8

Chapter 2 - The Golden Boy’s Shadow

Three hundred yards away, standing on a clear stretch of concrete behind a barricade of polished chrome and tinted glass, Duncan Vale watched the chaos unfold through designer sunglasses.

His custom Brioni suit was immaculate, completely untouched by the dust settling over the city. But beneath his calm exterior, his jaw was locked so tight his teeth ached.

"Get me the city engineer," Duncan barked into his phone, his voice a low, venomous hiss.

"Sir, phone lines are jammed across the district," replied his chief legal counsel, Marcus Vance, who was sweating through his linen jacket beside him. "The cell towers are overloaded with emergency traffic."

"I don't care if you have to send a carrier pigeon, Marcus! Find out what section failed!" Duncan’s knuckles turned white around his phone. "Tell me it wasn't Pier 4. Tell me it wasn't the expansion joints we installed during the 2024 retrofitting project."

Marcus swallowed hard, adjusting his glasses. "Vale Industries signed off on the structural integrity certification just six months ago, boss. If the failure trace leads back to the sub-grade epoxy compound we used to cut costs on the anchor plates..."

"It won't trace back to anything," Duncan interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he watched a lone nurse in blue scrubs pull a screaming child out of the back of the dangling school bus. "Because before anyone from the municipal safety board even steps foot near those footers, my team will have secured the site inspection rights under emergency municipal contract provisions."

"And if they find the core samples?" Marcus asked, his voice trembling.

"They won't," Duncan said coldly, turning his gaze back to the devastation. "Because I'm going to fund the immediate cleanup effort. A hero doesn't get investigated. A benefactor gets thanked."

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My hand froze inches from the cold steel of the Sig Sauer P226. Beneath the amber glow of the bedside lamp, the source of the warmth against my side wasn't an assassin, an operative from a rival syndicate, or a traitorous lieutenant.

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He pulled out a sleek silver card, preparing to broadcast a live press statement offering ten million dollars in private relief funds. He wanted cameras on him. He wanted the city to look at Duncan Vale as their savior.

He had no idea that a nurse named Nora Bellamy was already walking toward the exact piece of evidence that would tear his entire empire apart.

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