651 "In the Shadow of the Empire: Where Vows, Bloodlines, and Hidden Ledgers Collide"

“No,” I breathed, the word escaping my lips like a cracked pane of glass.

On the high-resolution monitor, the woman standing outside the lobby doors wasn't a stranger. It was Clara, the friend who was supposed to be watching my eight-year-old niece while I looked for work. And behind her, half-hidden by a heavy pillar, stood a man in a dark trench coat holding Naomi’s hand.

“Do you know them?” Lincoln demanded, his eyes shifting from the screen to my face, instantly reading the terror twisting my features.

“That’s my friend Clara,” I choked out, my hands trembling as I grabbed the edge of the desk. “And that’s... my niece. Naomi. She’s eight years old.”

Lincoln didn't hesitate. He slammed his fist down on the intercom button. “Bruno! Intercept them at the ground-floor entrance. Do not let anyone touch them. Bring them up to the private elevator immediately, and secure the perimeter. If Garrett is still in the building, find out where he went.”

“On it, boss,” Bruno’s voice crackled back.

Panic, cold and sharp, clawed at my throat. I backed away from the desk, my mind spinning wildly. “They have her. Garrett... Garrett must have realized I found the ledgers, or he’s using me to get to you—”

“Delia,” Lincoln interrupted, his voice cutting through my rising hysteria like a knife. He grabbed my shoulders, his grip firm, warm, and immovable. “Look at me.”

I forced my eyes up to meet his pale gray gaze.

“Your niece is going to be fine,” Lincoln said, every word dripping with absolute, terrifying conviction. “Nobody touches family in this city while I’m breathing. Do you understand me?”

Ten minutes later, the private elevator chime chimed softly down the hall.

I bolted out of the study before Lincoln could stop me, sprinting down the corridor just as the elevator doors slid open.

Bruno stepped out first, scanning the hallway with his hand resting on his weapon. Behind him came Clara, looking pale and shaking, and right beside her—small, wide-eyed, and clutching her pink rabbit plush toy—was Naomi.

“Aunt Delia!” Naomi cried out, breaking away from Clara and running straight into my arms.

I dropped to my knees, scooping my niece up against my chest so hard I thought my ribs would crack. Hot tears spilled over my eyelashes, soaking into her little yellow jacket. “Oh, sweetie, are you okay? Did anyone hurt you?”

“No,” Naomi whispered, burying her face in my neck. “Some nice men in suits gave me hot chocolate in a car and brought me to see you. But Clara was crying.”

I stood up, holding Naomi tight, and glared across the hallway at Clara, who looked ready to pass out.

“Delia, I am so sorry,” Clara sobbed, wringing her hands together. “Two men came to the apartment this morning. They didn't hurt us, but they said if I didn't bring Naomi here and deliver a package to Mr. Frost, they would... they would make sure we never saw an apartment lease in this state again. They knew everything about us!”

“It’s okay, Clara. You’re safe now,” I said, my voice trembling with a mixture of relief and murderous rage.

That was when Lincoln stepped out of the study, walking down the hall toward us. His dark coat was gone, replaced by a crisp black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the white bandages on his arm.

Naomi peeked over my shoulder, her big brown eyes widening as she stared at the tall, imposing man approaching us. “Are you the king?” she whispered loudly.

Bruno let out a sudden, very un-Bruno-like snort of amusement.

Even Lincoln paused, a flicker of genuine surprise softening the hard lines of his face. He stopped a few feet away, crouching down slightly so he was at eye level with an eight-year-old.

“Not quite, kiddo,” Lincoln said, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. “Just a guy who owns a very tall building.”

“You’re bleeding,” Naomi pointed out, eyeing his wrapped arm with the blunt honesty only children possess.

“It’s nothing,” Lincoln replied quietly. He looked up from Naomi, his eyes meeting mine over her head. The warmth vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, hardened edge. “Garrett didn’t just send a message, Delia. He delivered an ultimatum.”

I shifted Naomi to my hip, my jaw tightening. “What was the package?”

Bruno stepped forward, holding up a small, sealed manila envelope that Clara had dropped near the elevator doors.

Lincoln took it, tore it open, and pulled out a single sheet of heavy cardstock.