Chapter 3 - The Arrival at the Gates
Celeste stood up so abruptly her heels clicked sharply against the parquet floor. “What is that sound? Nathan, did you invite the press?”
“No,” Nathan muttered, his bravado finally fracturing. He abandoned his scotch on the mantelpiece and rushed toward the tall bay windows overlooking the front estate gates.
What he saw made the blood drain entirely from his face.
There were no local squad cars. There were no reporters flashing cameras. Instead, three matte-black, heavy-duty utility vehicles bearing federal transport insignia had rolled straight through the wrought-iron security gates as if they were made of paper. Armed men in unmarked tactical gear descended from the trucks with disciplined precision, securing the perimeter in seconds.
At the center of the formation stood a single black town car. The rear door swung open, and a tall, silver-haired man stepped out into the freezing night air. He wore a dark, impeccably tailored trench coat, his face partially shadowed by the brim of his hat, but his presence commanded an immediate, crushing gravity that silenced the entire courtyard.
“That’s... that’s impossible,” Nathan stammered, stepping back from the glass as if he had seen a ghost. “He’s gone. He retired ten years ago. He lost everything in the restructuring!”
Evelyn walked up beside Nathan, her voice a chilling whisper in his ear. “My father never lost anything, Nathan. He simply watched from the shadows to see which rats would try to chew through his walls while he was away.”
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Heavy boots echoed loudly across the stone porch outside. The grand oak doors of the drawing room didn't need to be knocked upon; they were pushed open by a federal marshal whose badge gleamed sharply under the hall lights.
A moment later, Victor Vance stepped into the room.
