THE GOLDEN CARD WAS JUST THE BEGINNING OF A GAME I NEVER WANTED TO PLAY

The amber glare of the van’s interior lights washed over David’s scarred face, freezing Julian in place. The brother he had buried, the funeral he had wept at, the grief he had carried for half a decade—it had all been an elaborate fiction designed to set the stage for this exact moment.

"David..." Julian choked out, his hands trembling as he gripped the encrypted flash drive Clara had given him. "You're dead. We identified the body."

David let out a harsh, barking laugh, stepping up onto the metal floor of the transport van. He gestured with the barrel of his assault rifle toward the driver's seat, where the real driver slumped forward, unconscious from a heavy sedative.

"A dental record is easy to fake when you own the dental board, Julian," David said smoothly, his eyes flashing with a cold, unforgiving hatred. "You and father always thought I was the weak link. The screw-up. So I let you think I died in a fiery crash, leaving you to inherit a rotting empire built on stolen debt and offshore shell companies."

Clara didn't flinch. She sat perfectly still on the metal bench, her hands resting calmly in her lap, watching David with a clinical detachment that unsettled even him.

"You didn't build an empire, David," Clara spoke up, her voice slicing cleanly through the roar of the idling engine. "You built a prison. Every shell company, every overseas account, every penny of the twenty million—it’s all tied back to a single federal indictment bearing your forged signature from 2018."

David’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, his grip tightening on the weapon. He swung the barrel toward Clara, his face darkening with rage. "Shut your mouth, you manipulative little—"

"He's right behind you, David," Julian interrupted, his voice dropping to a calm, deadly whisper as he stared past his brother's shoulder.

David sneered, refusing to fall for such a basic trick. "Nice try, Julian. I'm not turning—"

A heavy, metallic thud echoed inside the van as the butt of a heavy-duty tactical flashlight slammed squarely into the back of David’s skull. David’s eyes rolled back, his knees buckling instantly as he collapsed heavily onto the floor, his assault rifle clattering against the metal framing.

Standing in the open doorway behind him, lowering the flashlight with a grim expression, was Marcus Sterling.

Marcus wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore. His white shirt was stained with soot, and a nasty bruise purpled his left cheekbone. He looked down at the unconscious form of David Vance with exhaustion etched deep into every line of his face.

"I told you, Julian," Marcus panted, tossing the flashlight onto the bench. "Corporate espionage is a messy business. But dealing with the Vance family psycho is a full-time war."

Julian looked from Marcus to Clara, the shifting alliances spinning so fast his head swam. "You two... you were working together all along?"

Marcus offered a tired, cynical smile. "Not together, Julian. Just surviving the same monster."

Before anyone could say another word, the wailing of a dozen approaching police sirens shattered the quiet of the underground garage. Red and blue emergency lights painted the concrete walls in a frantic, blinding strobe.

Marcus reached out, snatching the encrypted flash drive right out of Julian’s hand.