Chapter 3 - THE WEB OF BETRAYAL
Upstairs in the executive penthouse suite overlooking the frozen expanse of Lake Michigan, the atmosphere was thick enough to suffocate.
Lucas knelt on the floor the second the elevator doors opened.
When Mia walked in, holding Vance’s hand, Lucas didn't look like the ruthless kingpin who controlled half the real estate and underground capital of the Midwest. He looked like a man who had just been handed his own heart on a silver platter.
He stopped a few feet away, not wanting to frighten her.
“Mia,” Lucas said, his voice raw, stripped of every defensive layer he had spent decades building.
Mia stopped, tilting her head. She looked at his sharp jaw, the dark hair falling over his forehead, and the intense, burning look in his gray eyes.
“You have my mommy’s eyes,” she whispered.
Lucas felt a tear break free—the first time he had cried since he was sixteen years old. He closed the distance between them, dropping slowly to his knees until he was eye-level with her.
“I am Lucas,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “I knew your mommy a long time ago, Mia. I’m... I’m your father.”
Mia didn't pull away. She reached out with one small, dirty finger and touched the scar along his jawline—the exact mark left behind from that night in Cicero.
“Mommy said you were a storm,” Mia said quietly. “She said storms come and go, but they leave things broken.”
“I’m not leaving,” Lucas swore, his hands gently framing her small face. He pulled her against his chest, burying his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of rain and old cedar. “I am never leaving again.”
Across the room, Harold Whitcomb was pinned to a chair by two security guards, weeping hysterically.
“Mr. Rourke! Please! It wasn't my fault! The account... the account was flagged by corporate compliance three months ago! We were told it was abandoned!”
Lucas slowly stood up, setting Mia gently behind him next to a plush velvet armchair. He turned around, his eyes locking onto Harold with a cold, predatory fury.
“Who told you the account was abandoned, Harold?” Lucas asked, his voice deceptively quiet.
“V-Vance & Sterling Legal! Julian Vance! He’s your mother’s estate trustee! He came to the bank personally three weeks ago with forged probate documents claiming Hannah Bennett passed away intestate without heirs! He ordered us to freeze the assets and transfer the remaining balance into a holding fund!”
Lucas’s eyes narrowed. Julian Vance. His own cousin, the man he had trusted with the family’s legal affairs for a decade.
“He said... he said you would never find out because you were too busy expanding the syndicate holdings in Indiana,” Harold sobbed.
Lucas didn't blink. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and dialed a direct, encrypted line.
“Vance,” Lucas commanded.
“Boss?”
May you like
“Lock down every corporate office, residential estate, and airport hangar belonging to Julian Vance. Freeze every asset tied to his name. If he tries to cross state lines, I want him brought to me in chains before the sun goes down.”
“Consider it done, boss.”
