Chapter 5
The cold metal barrel of the gun seemed to freeze the air in the vast library. Julian instinctively stepped in front of his mother, his hands raised slightly, palms facing outward. His mind raced through a dozen escape routes, but the tall windows were locked, and Arthur was too frail to be of any help.
“Who are you?” Julian demanded, keeping his voice steady despite the adrenaline roaring in his ears. “How did you get past the security gates?”
The man in the gray suit smiled, a thin, humorless curving of the lips that did not reach his cold eyes. “Security gates are designed for people who respect property lines, Mr. Vance. We respect nothing except orders. My name is Mercer. I represent the estate you and your father spent forty years trying to forget.”
Mercer’s gaze flicked briefly toward Arthur, who was cowering further into the wingback chair, trembling uncontrollably. “Ah, and the loyal servant. You’ve lived a remarkably long life for a liability, Arthur. It’s time to balance the ledger.”
“Leave him alone,” Elena said, standing up with a sudden, fierce dignity that surprised even Julian. She straightened her beige wool coat, her eyes flashing with anger rather than fear. “If you want answers, or if you want whatever is left of my husband’s fortune, take it. But you leave my family out of this.”
Mercer chuckled, a dry, grating sound. “Your fortune, Mrs. Vance? Every penny of it was funneled through shell corporations created by The Architect. You’ve been living on borrowed money in a gilded cage for four decades. The girl—Anna—was the missing key. Once she handed over the pendant this morning, the trust fund activation was complete.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed. “The trust fund? My grandfather left his entire estate to the direct bloodline. If Anna is my sister… she owns everything.”
“Precisely,” Mercer replied, stepping closer, keeping the gun leveled at Julian’s heart. “Which is why she is currently signing over the final corporate deeds at our downtown office. And once her signature is dry, there is no longer any reason for you, your mother, or this pathetic old man to draw another breath.”
Arthur let out a whimpering cry and slumped sideways out of his chair, hitting the Persian rug with a soft thud. Elena screamed, rushing toward the old man, but Mercer didn’t even glance down at the fallen servant.
“Don’t bother, Mrs. Vance. His heart gave out. A very convenient medical event,” Mercer said smoothly.
Julian’s fists clenched at his sides. The grief of losing Arthur combined with the raw fury of being manipulated pushed him past the threshold of caution. He lunged forward, ignoring the gun, aiming straight for Mercer’s throat.
Mercer sidestepped effortlessly, raising the heavy silver briefcase and smashing it across Julian’s temple. Julian crashed into the mahogany desk, knocking over a stack of ledgers before collapsing onto the floor, blood trickling from a deep cut above his eyebrow.
“Julian!” Elena shrieked, dropping to her knees beside her son, pressing her hands against the wound as blood stained her beige coat.
May you like
Mercer walked over, standing above them, and clicked the safety of his weapon off with a sharp, metallic snap. “Goodbye, Vances.”
Before the finger could pull the trigger, the library window shattered inward in a shower of glass, and a smoke grenade rolled across the rug, filling the room with a choking white fog.
