Chapter 8 - Ashes and ArchitectureBy dawn, the estate looked like a war zone. Federal agents swarmed the grounds, carting away encrypted servers, ledgers, and boxes of evidence that would guarantee Viktor Vance and his inner circle spent the rest of their natural lives behind maximum-security bars.
The media trucks parked outside the iron gates flashed cameras continuously, speculating wildly about the midnight shootout at the mysterious billionaire’s compound. The headlines called it a turf war. The police called it a criminal enterprise collapsing under its own weight.
None of them knew the truth.
I stood on the second-floor balcony, watching the sun rise over the Hudson River, painting the morning sky in shades of gold and bruised purple. The cold wind bit at my face, but for the first time in my life, I didn't feel cold inside.
A soft pair of footsteps approached behind me.
"The federal marshals are relocating us to a safehouse in Vermont by noon," Maria said quietly, stepping onto the balcony beside me. She looked different today—not like a terrified maid hiding a secret, but like a woman who finally had a future. "Thomas wanted me to ask... are you going to be okay here alone?"
I took a slow breath, tasting the fresh morning air. "I'm never alone, Maria. Not anymore."
She smiled softly, resting her hand on the balcony railing next to mine. "Sofia left something for you on the kitchen table before she packed her things."
May you like
I raised an eyebrow. "Is it another blanket?"
"No," Maria laughed softly. "Just a drawing. She said it’s a picture of her new favorite businessman."
