Chapter 15 - The Ultimatum
The silence in the pavilion stretched so thin it felt as though it might snap. Damian’s finger rested lightly on the trigger, the tension in his forearm trembling not from fear, but from the sheer, volcanic fury roaring beneath his skin.
"You think a piece of paper signed thirty years ago holds any weight in this world?" Damian asked, his voice dropping into a register so cold it felt like ice water.
"In a court of law? Perhaps not," Victor smiled, stepping casually around the barrel of the gun as if it were nothing more than an umbrella. He walked toward the exit, pausing at the threshold to look back over his shoulder. "In the underworld where you and I make our living, Damian? It’s the only law that matters. You have forty-eight hours to clear out your people, your guns, and your little domestic arrangement. After that... the estate belongs to me."
He stepped out into the crisp autumn air, disappearing down the gravel path before Damian could squeeze the trigger.
Marcus rushed into the pavilion a second later, pistol drawn, scanning the empty room. "Boss? Did you—"
"No," Damian interrupted, lowering his weapon slowly. His mind was racing, calculating angles, resources, and contingencies. "Let him walk."
"Walk? Damian, he just stole the entire property out from under us!"
"He didn't steal it, Marcus. He stepped into a trap." Damian holstered his weapon and turned to Clara, who was still trembling behind the counter. "Pack a bag for you and Lily. Marcus will take you to the safehouse in the city."
"No," Clara said, her voice small but surprisingly firm. She stepped out from behind the counter, gently resting her hand on Lily’s shoulder. "We're not running anymore, Mr. Vane. You protected us when you didn't have to. We stay right here until this is finished."
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Damian looked at the three-year-old, who looked up at him with absolute, unwavering trust. He felt something shift inside his chest—a sudden, unyielding wall of resolve.
"All right," Damian said quietly. "We stay."
