Chapter 4 - The Price of an Insult
The grand foyer of the Mercer estate was lined with white marble, magnificent archways, and two heavy oak doors that led out into the freezing Chicago snow.
Victor Glass stood near the center of the foyer, wearing a expensive leather coat over an open-collared shirt. He was a broad-shouldered man with a scarred neck, an arrogant sneer, and two heavy-set guards standing directly behind him. He looked around the pristine mansion with the casual, contemptuous air of a predator used to getting his way.
"Tell Mercer I don't want any trouble," Victor called out to the two armed security guards standing at the base of the grand staircase. "I'm just here for the girl. She missed her payment yesterday, and my boss doesn't like waiting."
The sound of slow, measured footsteps echoed down the marble stairs.
Victor turned his head, his sneer widening slightly—until he saw Adrian Mercer descending the staircase.
Adrian was unhurried. He down each step with absolute calm, his hands resting casually in his pockets. Behind him walked Marcus Cole, his hand resting inside his coat flap.
Adrian stopped three steps from the bottom, looking down at Victor Glass as if he were a stain on his shoes.
"Victor," Adrian said quietly.
Victor adjusted his coat, trying to maintain his bravado, though a subtle flicker of unease flashed across his eyes. "Mr. Mercer. I didn't mean to disturb your morning. I'm just here on private business. One of your cleaning ladies, Emma Reed—or Elena Vance, as we know her—owes my employer a considerable sum."
"Does she?" Adrian asked softly.
"She does," Victor replied, pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket and holding it up. "A legally binding promissory note signed by her father’s estate. She’s behind on her monthly installment. I’m here to take her in for... questioning regarding her father’s remaining assets."
Adrian didn't look at the paper. He stepped off the last stair, walking directly toward Victor.
Victor’s two guards instinctively took a step forward, but Marcus Cole drew a suppressed sidearm with terrifying speed, leveling it directly at the chest of the lead guard. The two men froze instantly, their hands flying up into the air.
Adrian stopped two feet from Victor. He was half a head taller than the enforcer, and the sheer weight of his presence made the temperature in the foyer drop dramatically.
"You touched her," Adrian said softly.
Victor frowned, his arrogance faltering. "What?"
"Her arms," Adrian clarified, his voice dropping into a deadly, low whisper. "Her wrists. You left marks on her."
Victor let out a nervous, sharp laugh. "Hey, come on, Mercer. She’s a debtor. Sometimes women need to be reminded of their obligations. It’s nothing personal, just business—"
Before Victor could finish the sentence, Adrian’s hand shot out like a striking viper.
He grabbed Victor by the throat, his fingers digging into the man's neck with terrifying, crushing force, and slammed him backward against the heavy oak front door. The impact rattled the brass fittings.
Victor choked, his eyes bulging as his feet left the floor. He clawed frantically at Adrian’s hand, but Adrian’s arm was like an iron bar.
"Listen to me very carefully, Victor," Adrian whispered into the choking man’s ear, his voice calm, cold, and utterly devoid of mercy. "Elena Vance works for me. Her child lives here. If you ever put your hands on her again, if you ever say her name, if you even think about this street, I will not call the police. I will personally bury you beneath five feet of concrete in the Lake Forest railyards. Do you understand?"
Victor tried to speak, but only a wet, gurgling sound escaped his mouth. He nodded frantically, his face turning purple.
Adrian released his grip. Victor collapsed onto the marble floor, gasping wildly for air, clutching his throat.
Adrian pulled a white linen handkerchief from his pocket, casually wiping his fingers as if he had just touched something filthy. He tossed the cloth onto Victor’s chest.
"Tell Julian Thorne that if he wants to collect Arthur Vance’s debt, he can come here and try to collect it from me," Adrian said, turning his back on the men. "Get out of my house."
Victor scrambled to his feet, assisted by his pale, terrified guards, and fled through the heavy doors into the freezing snow without looking back once.
Adrian turned to Marcus. "Set up twenty-four-hour surveillance on Julian Thorne's primary residence. I want to know every politician he meets, every account he uses, and every man he pays."
"Right away, Boss," Marcus said, looking down at the discarded handkerchief on the floor. "And what about Elena?"
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Adrian looked up toward the second-floor balcony, where a small girl in a faded yellow nightgown was peeking through the iron railing, clutching a stuffed rabbit.
"Tell the kitchen to prepare lunch for three," Adrian said softly.
