Chapter 5 - The Phantom Debt
I sprinted down the grand staircase, two steps at a time, with Mave right on my heels and Wesley emerging from the security wing with his weapon drawn.
When we threw open the front doors, the cold morning air rushed in. Standing on the marble porch was a young man in his early twenties, soaking wet, his clothes torn and his face bruised. It was Ethan—Mave’s younger brother. Behind him, two private security guards were holding him upright, while a beat-up sedan idled at the edge of the circular drive.
"Mave!" Ethan cried out, stumbling forward the moment he saw her. "Thank God... thank God you're safe!"
Mave rushed past me, catching her brother as he collapsed against her. "Ethan! What happened to you? Why are you bruised? Who did this?"
"It wasn't just Eleanor," Ethan gasped, clutching a stained manila envelope to his chest like a holy relic. "You think your mother acted alone, Garrett? You think a woman like that leaves loose ends?"
I stepped forward, grabbing Ethan by the shoulders to steady him. "Talk to me. Who else was involved?"
Ethan looked up at me with terror-stricken eyes. "The Ashford family. Coraline’s father. Two days before the wedding, when your mother found out Mave was still in the city, she didn't just threaten her—she sold her debt to the Ashford syndicate. They’ve been tracking us for months. They didn't just want Mave to stay quiet; they wanted us wiped off the map so nobody would ever tie you to a child outside the bloodline."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis.
I had thought defeating Eleanor was the end of the war. I had underestimated the depth of corporate evil. The Ashford family wasn't just a business rival; they were ruthless syndicate players hiding behind tailored Brioni suits and philanthropic foundations.
"They're coming, Garrett," Ethan sobbed, thrusting the manila envelope into my hands. "Look inside. That’s not just a debt. That’s a hit order. Coraline didn't flee to Europe—she went to meet her uncle, the head of the Ashford black-ops division. They’re planning to take Posie to ensure there’s never a competing heir to the Hail estate."
Before I could open the folder, the low, ominous roar of multiple high-performance diesel engines echoed up the private driveway.
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Three matte-black SUVs crested the hill, their high-beams cutting through the morning mist, tires screeching as they blocked every exit off the property.
"Boss!" Wesley shouted, drawing his firearm as the doors of the SUVs flew open, revealing a dozen armed men in tactical gear bearing no insignia. "We've been boxed in! Defend the house!"
