Chapter 3 - The Enforcer in the Shadows
Glass and twisted metal exploded across the garage floor.
Preston’s men scrambled backward in panic as the driver’s door of the silver Range Rover slammed open.
A tall, broad-shouldered man in a leather jacket stepped out into the concrete bay. He was in his early fifties, with a thick beard streaked with gray, a deep scar cutting across his left cheek, and eyes like cold steel.
It was Vance—a former special forces operative who had served as Charles Whitmore’s personal head of security for twenty years before retiring to run a private intelligence firm.
“Get in!” Vance roared, waving his hand toward the Range Rover.
“Vance?!” Preston shouted in utter disbelief. “What the hell are you doing?! I pay your retainer!”
“Your father paid my retainer, kid,” Vance growled, pulling a heavy tactical shotgun from his seat and racking the slide with a loud metallic CLICK. “And your mother called me an hour ago to tell me you were pulling a coup. Move!”
Adrian didn't waste a single second. He grabbed Rosa, hauling her into the back seat of the Range Rover. Adrian jumped into the passenger seat as Vance slammed the vehicle into reverse, the tires screaming against the concrete as he backed up at forty miles an hour toward the secondary delivery exit.
Preston’s remaining guards drew their sidearms, firing several shots into the reinforced front windshield of the Range Rover.
THWACK! THWACK!
The bulletproof glass spider-webbed, but held solid.
Vance spun the steering wheel, throwing the heavy SUV around, ramming through the yellow fiberglass security gate of the delivery exit and bursting into the rain-slicked streets of Manhattan under the flashing red lights of the city.
Inside the rear seat, Rosa held the suitcase tightly on her lap, her breathing fast and ragged.
Adrian turned around in his seat, looking at her with a profound, overwhelming mixture of guilt, admiration, and shock.
“Are you hit?” Adrian asked.
“I’m fine,” Rosa whispered, her hands trembling slightly against the leather handle.
Vance looked at Adrian through the rear-view mirror as he guided the heavy vehicle into the heavy midnight traffic of Fifth Avenue. “Where to, boss? Preston owns the family mansion, he owns the corporate headquarters, and he’s probably got NYPD looking for this vehicle within twenty minutes.”
Adrian looked at the sealed cream envelope his mother had given him. He broke the wax seal, pulling out a single sheet of heavy parchment written in Eleanor’s elegant cursive handwriting.
He read the words aloud, his voice thick with emotion:
“Adrian, if you are reading this, I am gone. My life was spent protecting a lie to keep our family’s status intact. Do not make my mistake. Go to the safehouse in Shelter Island. The key is behind the painting of the harbor in my private study. Inside the safe is the original stock ledger from 1998. Combine it with what Rosa carries, and Preston will have no power.”
Adrian folded the paper, looking at Vance. “Shelter Island.”
Vance nodded grimly. “We’ve got a long drive, and Preston isn't going to let us reach the ferry. He’s already calling in every favor Whitmore Global has with the city.”
Adrian turned back to Rosa. He reached out, gently placing his hand over hers. For twelve years, he had lived under the same roof with this woman, completely blind to the heroic strength hiding behind a maid’s uniform.
“Rosa,” Adrian said softly, his eyes filled with sincere, agonizing remorse. “I am so sorry. For how my father treated your family. For how I ignored you for twelve years.”
Rosa looked at his hand, then up into his hazel eyes. For the first time, she saw no arrogance in him—only the honest, broken heart of a man who wanted to make things right.
“You didn't know, Adrian,” Rosa said quietly. “Your mother protected you from the dark parts of your father’s legacy. But now… you know. The only question is… what are you going to do with the truth?”
May you like
Adrian looked out the window at the rain sweeping across the neon lights of Manhattan.
“I’m going to burn my father’s empire to the ground,” Adrian swore softly, “and rebuild it on your father’s name.”
