The silence in the grand ballroom was deafening. Thousands of dollars' worth of champagne glasses remained suspended in mid-air as eyes shifted from the slick, dark-suited lawyer to the frail old man holding a single crushed white rose.

The grand staircase of Vance Manor, once the sight of glamorous society entrances, became a warzone within minutes.

Automatic gunfire shattered the glass dome above the ballroom, showering rain and sharp shards down upon the white roses scattered on the floor. Mercenaries in night-vision goggles poured through the broken skylights, dropping on ropes into the dark interior.

TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK!

Evelyn leaned out from behind a massive marble pillar, firing controlled bursts from her weapon. Two mercenaries dropped from the upper balcony, their bodies crashing onto the grand piano below with a discordant screech of wires.

"Grandfather, move!" Evelyn yelled, tossing a smoke grenade toward the main entrance.

Thomas didn't run. Instead, he walked calmly to the ancient grandfather clock at the end of the hall. He reached inside the clock face, pulled a heavy brass lever, and stepped back.

The entire bookshelf behind the clock swung inward, revealing a hidden armory equipped with military-grade hardware that far outmatched anything the mercenaries brought.

"You really thought I spent three years just planting petunias?" Thomas asked dryly, pulling a customized shotgun from the rack and racking the slide with a lethal sound.

Harrison, taking cover behind a heavy mahogany desk, shot a mercenary coming through the library window with deadly precision. "I told you, Miss Evelyn, your grandfather never goes into retirement without a contingency plan."

Suddenly, the reinforced steel doors leading to the basement burst open.

Julian stepped out, flanked by three heavily armed men. But Julian wasn't holding a gun. He was holding a remote detonator.

"STOP FIRING!" Julian screamed, his voice echoing over the sound of rain and gunfire.

Evelyn lowered her weapon slightly, staying behind her pillar. Thomas stepped out into the middle of the ruined ballroom, his shotgun held loosely at his side.

"Look at you, old man," Julian mocked, his face twisted with insane joy. "Dressed like a soldier now? It doesn't matter. The vault is open. My father has the core."

Thomas’s eyes narrowed. "Victor is alive."

"He never died!" Julian laughed hysterically. "He spent twenty years building the Vanguard while you were pulling weeds! And right now, this charges under the floorboards are wired to the entire structural support of this mansion. One press of this button, and you, your bitch granddaughter, and this entire mountain collapse into the bay!"

"Julian," Thomas said, his voice strangely calm. "Look at the screen on your detonator."

Julian blinked, looking down at the small digital display on the device in his hand. The screen wasn't showing a countdown timer.

It was showing a upload bar.