Chapter 3 - The Inside Fracture
The silence that followed Marcus’s admission felt heavier than any threat of violence.
I crouched behind the counter, my hand clamped over Evan’s trembling shoulder, watching the two men stare each other down across our tiny living room. The narrative I had built in my head—that Elias Baron was an untouchable king dealing with external enemies—shattered completely. The threat wasn't just outside the gates; it had been rotting the foundation from within.
“How long, Marcus?” Elias asked, his voice chillingly calm, though the knuckles gripping his firearm were stark white.
“Long enough to realize the empire is resting on a sentimental fool,” Marcus replied, his eyes darting toward the photograph of my brother on the dresser before returning to Elias. “You’ve gotten soft, boss. You spent six months investigating random warehouse leaks while the Rossi family offered a permanent seat at their table for the logistics database. All it took was a few keystrokes and a convenient scapegoat.”
My breath caught. A convenient scapegoat.
They hadn't just suspected me by accident. Marcus had planted my keycard logs. Marcus had orchestrated the entire setup to point the finger straight at the exhausted, debt-ridden night cleaner, knowing full well that Elias’s suspicion would do the rest of the work.
“Adeline didn't know anything about it,” Elias said, his gaze never leaving Marcus. “Leave her and the boy out of this.”
“Too late for that,” Marcus chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. “By sunset, every board member, every federal contact on our payroll, and the entire Rossi syndicate will receive a neat little package showing that Elias Baron’s personal money-laundering conduit is run out of a tenement apartment in Chelsea by his dead soldier’s family. The optics are poetry, Elias.”
Evan shifted beside me, his breathing shallow and rapid. Without a word, his hand slid toward the heavy ceramic mug he had dropped earlier. I shot him a warning look, pressing my fingers harder into his shoulder, but Evan’s eyes were locked on Marcus’s side, where a heavy holster was partially visible beneath the tactical jacket.
“You think you can just walk out of here and pin this on a dead man’s sister?” Elias asked, taking a slow, deliberate step forward.
“I don't have to walk out,” Marcus said smoothly, his hand twitching toward his own jacket. “I just have to make sure you and your new favorite charity don't survive the break-in.”
Before Marcus’s hand could clear his holster, Evan let out a sudden yell and hurled the ceramic mug straight at Marcus’s face.
It wasn't a lethal blow, but the unexpected projectile shattered against Marcus’s shoulder, throwing off his aim just enough. Elias didn't hesitate. A single, deafening gunshot echoed through the small apartment, clipping Marcus’s weapon hand and sending his gun clattering across the floorboards.
Marcus cursed, clutching his bleeding hand, stumbling backward against the doorframe. He glared at Elias with pure venom, then at Evan and me, before lunging sideways into the hallway and disappearing down the stairs with staggering speed.
Elias started to chase, then stopped abruptly, realizing the risk of leaving us unprotected. He turned back, his chest heaving, his eyes wild with a mixture of adrenaline and fury.
“Are you both hit?” Elias demanded, dropping to his knees beside us.
“We’re fine,” I breathed, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold my own weight. I looked up at Elias, the full weight of what had just happened crashing down on me. “He’s going to go straight to the Rossis. Or worse, the police.”
“He won't make it far,” Elias said, his voice hardening into steel. But as he reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone, a screen notification lit up his palm.
Elias stopped dead. He stared at the display for three long seconds, the color completely draining from his face.
“What is it?” I asked, dread pooling in my stomach.
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“It’s not Marcus I have to worry about anymore,” Elias whispered, turning the screen toward us so we could read the automated security alert from his estate. “Marcus didn't sell the database to the Rossis. He was just the middleman. The primary access key was just used from my private home terminal five minutes ago... using my wife’s administrative login.”
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