Chapter 3 - THE GOLDEN BOY UNMASKED"Who the hell is down there?!"
The voice echoed from the grand curved staircase in the foyer—sharp, demanding, laced with the casual arrogance of a man who believed the world bent to his venture capital portfolio.
Ethan Caldwell appeared at the top of the landing. He was wearing a custom-tailored Italian linen shirt, his sleeves rolled up to reveal expensive gold cufflinks, his golden-brown hair styled to perfection. But the illusion shattered the second his eyes locked onto Richard. The color instantly drained from Ethan's face, leaving him looking like a ghost caught in daylight.
"Richard?" Ethan stammered, his polished public-speaker cadence cracking instantly. "What—how did you get in here? The gates—the security..."
Richard didn't say a word. He walked slowly across the foyer, his heavy combat boots clicking against the pristine marble like a drumbeat of doom. Each step closed the distance, turning the magnificent foyer into a cage.
"Where is my daughter, Ethan?" Richard’s voice wasn't loud. It was a low, gravelly rumble that carried the terrifying weight of a military tribunal.
Ethan swallowed hard, trying desperately to recover his composure. He forced a strained, charismatic smile—the same smile that graced the covers of tech magazines across the globe.
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"Now hold on just a minute, Colonel," Ethan laughed nervously, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Emily had one of her hysterical episodes again. You know how fragile she gets. She fell down the basement stairs. I was just trying to help her clean up—"
Richard didn't let him finish. In one blindingly fast movement, he closed the remaining gap, grabbed the front of Ethan’s designer shirt, and hoisted the tech mogul clear off his feet, slamming him hard against the mahogany wall. The drywall cracked behind Ethan's spine, and the air rushed out of his lungs in a violent wheeze.
