Chapter 4 - The Corporate Heist
Two days later, dressed in a sleek black power suit, tailored to hide a concealed firearm and tactical tools, I walked side-by-side with Gregory into the pristine, marble-lined lobby of Hartman Logistics Headquarters.
Gregory walked with a slight limp, his jaw wired shut under the guise of an "unfortunate jet-ski accident" during our honeymoon. Beside him, I played the role of the devoted, caring wife, gently holding his arm while keeping my thumb positioned directly over a nerve cluster on his wrist. One wrong move from him, and I would inflict blinding pain before he could utter a sound.
"Smile, darling," I whispered under my breath as we approached the security turnstiles. "We're making history today."
The security guards bowed respectfully to Gregory, tapping their access badges to bypass the facial recognition protocols for the CEO's son. We stepped into the private executive elevator, ascending toward the 40th floor—Victor Hartman’s personal kingdom.
"Remember the plan," I murmured, staring at our reflections in the polished brass doors. "You go into your father's office, pull him into the private conference room, and keep him occupied for ten minutes. I access the server room using your master keycard."
Gregory nodded nervously, sweat bead on his forehead. "My father... he won't be fooled for long, Ashlynn. If he finds out what you're doing, he won't hesitate to kill us both."
"Then you better be persuasive," I said as the elevator chimed.
The doors opened into a sprawling penthouse office overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Sitting behind a massive mahogany desk was Victor Hartman—a towering, silver-haired man in his late sixties whose eyes were as cold and sharp as cracked ice.
"Gregory," Victor said, his voice booming like thunder. "And Ashlynn. I didn't expect to see you back from your cruise so soon. I was told there was... an issue."
Victor's eyes narrowed as he locked gaze with me. He knew the hitman had failed. He was assessing me, trying to figure out how a civilian corporate woman had managed to survive.
"Father," Gregory mumbled through his wired jaw, stepping forward as trained. "We need to talk. In private. About the European shipments."
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Victor hesitated, his gaze lingering on me for a long, tense moment. Finally, he stood up, adjusting his suit jacket. "Very well. In the conference room."
As the two men walked toward the soundproof conference room, I slipped away toward the server corridor. I had precisely six hundred seconds before Victor realized something was wrong.
