Chapter 6 - The Sniper’s Shadow
Wood splinters and shattered glass rained down across the Persian rug as Julian scrambled backward, clutching the microcassette recorder to his chest like a shield. Marcus was already on his feet, dragging Julian toward the heavy oak desk for cover.
“Get down! Stay low!” Marcus shouted, his face pale with adrenaline.
“Who was that?” Julian gasped, his heart hammering against his ribs as he stared at the smoking hole in the brickwork behind them.
“Not Clara,” Marcus muttered, peering cautiously over the edge of the mahogany desk toward the shattered French windows. “At least, not just Clara. She’s small-time compared to whoever is backing our firm’s accounts.”
Outside in the ballroom, the sound of the gunshot triggered absolute panic. Screams echoed down the hallway, followed by the heavy thud of running feet and the wail of car alarms starting up in the parking lot. The wedding reception had officially disintegrated into a crime scene.
Leo didn't scream. The boy sat curled tightly beneath the large oak desk, his knees pulled up to his chest, staring at the floor with wide, hollow eyes. He looked far too calm for a seven-year-old who had just witnessed an assassination attempt.
“Leo, look at me,” Julian whispered, crawling across the floor to grab his son by the shoulders. “Are you hurt?”
“No, Dad,” Leo answered, his voice completely flat. He slowly held up his smartphone, which was still recording video. “I caught the flash from the tree line.”
Julian took the phone, squinting at the screen. Despite the dark, the camera’s digital zoom had captured a clear, high-definition silhouette of a figure crouching on the balcony of the neighboring estate, holding a long-barreled rifle equipped with a massive thermal scope.
“That’s not a local hitman,” Marcus whispered over Julian’s shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the expensive tactical gear on the screen. “That’s private security. Corporate security. The kind of people who protect billionaires when they need loose ends tied up permanently.”
Julian’s blood turned to ice. He looked from Marcus to his son, realizing with terrifying clarity that the web of deceit went far beyond a simple domestic betrayal over a house. Clara wasn't just a gold-digger; she was an operative planted inside his life by a corporate entity trying to acquire his father’s patents.
Suddenly, the heavy study door rattled violently. Someone was trying to pick the lock from the outside.
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“Julian!” Clara’s voice shrieked from the hallway, sounding frantic and entirely unhinged. “Open the door! They’re coming for us too! Open the door right now!”
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