Chapter 3 - Midnight in ManhattanThe black armored Lincoln glided silently through the rain-slicked streets of Manhattan, bypassing the toll cameras through a customized signal blocker Gabriel operated from the front seat. In the back, Adrian sat in absolute, suffocating silence, while Mara sat quietly across from him, her hands folded in her lap.
"You risked your life, your freedom, and what little safety you had on the street to tell me this," Adrian signed, breaking the stillness. "Why? Taking down Crane and Celeste won't bring back your medical license."
Mara’s fingers moved, slower this time, carrying a heavy weight of grief.
Thomas Bellini wasn't just your brother, Adrian. He was trying to stop the Marlow family from laundering cartel drug money through your legitimate shipping front. The bomb at Bellini’s wasn't meant for you. It was meant for Thomas. And when I tried to log the anomalies in your surgical chart that night, my credentials were stolen, my patient files were swapped, and I was framed for murder.
Adrian stared at her. The anger that had simmered inside him for three years suddenly roared to life, not as a blind fury, but as a razor-sharp blade. Thomas hadn't been killed by a rival syndicate. He had been murdered by the very people whispering sweet lies into Adrian’s ear every single night.
The car slowed to a halt outside a sleek glass penthouse tower in Tribeca. Julian Marlow’s private residenceoccupying the top three floors.
"Gabriel," Adrian signed, his eyes fixed on the illuminated lobby windows. "Take two men through the service elevator. Secure the penthouse exits. No alarms, no police, no bodies left in the open."
"And Celeste?" Gabriel asked, his voice low.
"Leave her at the estate," Adrian replied, his face expressionless. "Let her think we're investigating Mara's claims of a break-in. Let her feel safe until the trap is fully sprung."
Within minutes, Adrian and Mara stepped out of the private elevator directly into Julian Marlow’s sprawling, minimalist living room. Julian, dressed in a silk bathrobe and holding a glass of scotch, turned around—and nearly dropped his crystal tumbler.
"Adrian?" Julian stammered, his eyes darting past his brother-in-law to the ragged woman standing behind him. "What the hell is this? What is she doing here? Security!"
Adrian didn't pull a gun. He walked slowly across the imported Italian marble, closing the distance until Julian could smell the cold rain on his coat. With terrifying precision, Adrian reached out, grabbed Julian by the lapel of his silk robe, and slammed him against the floor-to-ceiling glass window that overlooked the glittering Manhattan skyline.
Julian choked out a gasp, his hands clawing at Adrian’s wrists. "Are you out of your mind? My sister is your fiancée!"
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Adrian raised one hand, his fingers spelling out a single, chilling question.
Where is the decryption key for my medical database?
