Chapter 3 - The Penthouse Lockdown
Back in the triplex penthouse, Daniel Miller poured himself a glass of single-malt scotch. His hands were steady. He felt a profound sense of cleansing, as if a foul odor had finally been scrubbed from his home.
His phone buzzed on the marble kitchen island.
He glanced at the screen. Unknown number.
Daniel tapped answer, his tone sharp. "If this is the board, the merger is already handled."
"It's not the board, Daniel," a voice replied.
It wasn't Mark. It wasn't one of his lawyers. It was a voice that sounded like grinding stones, smooth, cold, and utterly lethal.
Daniel frowned. "Who is this? How did you get this number?"
"You threw away something that belonged to me," Elias Vance said from the other end of the line.
A chill that had nothing to do with the winter weather crawled up Daniel's spine. He had heard stories about Elias Vance. Every man in high finance knew the legend—the ghost who controlled the city's underworld, a man who didn't negotiate, who didn't leave witnesses, and who had spent the last decade hunting down the people who had destroyed his sister's life years ago.
"You have the wrong number," Daniel stammered, his aristocratic composure cracking. "I don't know any Elias—"
CLANG.
Downstairs, the heavy reinforced steel doors of the private elevator shaft groaned.
"Lock the penthouse," Daniel screamed, dropping his glass. The crystal shattered on the floor, amber liquid splashing across his Italian tiles.
He sprinted toward the smart-home panel by the entryway, his fingers flying across the touchscreen. He hit the master override: LOCK DOWN.
Heavy steel security shutters slammed down over every floor-to-ceiling window in the penthouse, sealing the apartment like a concrete tomb. The smart locks clicked into place with a definitive, deafening mechanical roar.
Daniel stood in the center of his darkened living room, chest heaving, listening to the absolute silence of his fortress.
"You can't get in," Daniel shouted toward the hallway, his voice echoing off the walls. "This building has private security! The doors are reinforced steel! You can't touch me!"
A soft, mechanical whirring sound answered him from above.
May you like
Daniel slowly raised his head.
The custom glass skylight in the vaulted ceiling of his living room began to spiderweb with cracks.
