Chapter 7 - THE CRIME BOSS'S ULTIMATUM"Father, are you out of your mind?!" Ethan stepped directly in front of me, placing his body between my chest and the barrel of Grant’s shotgun. "She saved my life twice tonight! If she hadn't tackled me in the tunnel, I'd be a pile of ash right now!"
Grant’s eyes narrowed, cold and unyielding as polished granite.
"Step aside, Ethan," Grant warned, his finger resting lightly on the double triggers. "She’s a federal asset. Whether she’s rogue or working for Whitaker, she knows the layout of every vault, every escape route, and every skeleton in this family's closet. In my world, a witness like that doesn't walk away."
"I'm not a witness, Grant. I'm your last line of defense," I said, stepping out from behind Ethan’s shoulder despite his protests. My voice was steady, completely devoid of fear. I kept my hands open and visible at my sides. "And if you shoot me right now, the encrypted data package Beatrice was uploading to the Vance servers will finish downloading in exactly four minutes. Your entire empire goes public, your offshore accounts get frozen by the Treasury, and every rival family on the East Coast will be sitting in your living room by sunrise."
Grant froze. The shotgun dipped a fraction of an inch.
"You think I didn't see the laptop in the east wing?" I continued, stepping closer, ignoring the cold barrel pointed at my heart. "You thought you could use me as a disposable shield while you flushed out the mole yourself. You knew someone was inside the house, Grant. That’s why you hired me—not because I was qualified, but because if I failed, you could pin the security breach on the incompetent female guard from Whitaker’s agency."
The courtyard went dead silent, save for the crackle of the burning east wing and the steady hiss of the sprinklers.
For three long seconds, Grant stared at me. Then, slowly, a grim, respectful smirk touched the corners of his mouth.
"You've got a sharper tongue than your resume suggested, Agent," Grant lowered the shotgun entirely, resting the butt against the wet grass. "I'll give you that."
"Father!" Ethan stared at him in disbelief. "You manipulated her too?"
"In our business, Ethan, you don't survive by trusting people. You survive by testing them," Grant said, turning his gaze toward the burning mansion. "And it seems she passed."
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Suddenly, the heavy metal security gates at the front of the estate shrieked as they were rammed open by three black armored SUVs bearing federal insignia.
Director Paul Whitaker had arrived.
