Chapter 8 - The Breach at the Skyline
Daniel’s hand instantly withdrew from mine, the soft vulnerability in his expression vanishing in a fraction of a second, replaced by the razor-sharp focus of a general in the middle of a war.
"Mark," Daniel said, standing up from the stool so fast the wooden legs scraped against the tiled floor. "What happened?"
Mark didn't look at me; his eyes were fixed entirely on Daniel as he pulled a thick, encrypted tablet from his coat pocket. "The downtown site on Canal Street. We just took a direct hit."
My stomach dropped. "A hit? What kind of hit? The zoning commissioner signed off on the permits this afternoon!"
"The permits are fine, Ms. Carter," Mark said grimly, handing the tablet to Daniel. "It's not the city. It's the Pier 54 logistics hub. Someone just executed a hostile midnight buyout of our primary steel supplier, cutting off our entire inventory for the Harrington-Kang structural framework."
Daniel’s eyes scanned the glowing lines of data on the tablet, his face hardening into an expression of cold, calculated fury. The temperature in the bakery seemed to drop ten degrees.
"Who?" Daniel asked, his voice deadly quiet.
"The Vanguard Group," Mark replied, watching Daniel’s reaction closely. "Backed by Victor Thorne."
At the sound of that name, the air in the room felt entirely vacuumed out. I didn't know much about the underworld hierarchies of New York, but I knew enough about corporate real estate to recognize the name Victor Thorne. He was the ruthless billionaire developer who had tried—and failed—to buy out half of lower Manhattan before Daniel pushed him out.
"Thorne is currently locked in federal bankruptcy court for tax fraud," Daniel murmured, scrolling down the screen. "He doesn't have the liquid capital for a hostile steel buyout of this magnitude. Someone is bankrolling him."
"We traced the wire transfer shell company," Mark added, tapping the screen to pull up a secondary file. "It leads directly to an offshore trust registered in the Cayman Islands under a holding name."
Daniel stared at the screen, and for a terrifying second, I saw a flicker of pure, unadulterated realization cross his features—as if a puzzle he had been trying to solve for years had suddenly snapped into place.
"My father's old partners," Daniel hissed, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edges of the tablet. "They're trying to choke out the flagship build to force me back into the family board."
"What are we going to do, Mr. Kang?" Mark asked, straightening his posture. "If we don't secure alternative steel by Friday morning, the entire construction schedule collapses, and the bank triggers default clauses on our development loan."
Daniel took a slow, deep breath, reigning in his anger with terrifying precision. He turned his head, his dark eyes finding mine across the counter. The fierce protectiveness in his gaze was unmistakable, but so was the grim reality of the war we had stepped into.
"We don't negotiate with Thorne," Daniel said coldly. He handed the tablet back to Mark. "Call every independent shipping magnate from here to Boston. I want every ton of surplus industrial steel in the Northeast cornered and bought out by four a.m. Price is no object."
"And Thorne?" Mark asked.
A dangerous, predatory smile touched the corners of Daniel's mouth.
May you like
"Thorne wants a war over my steel?" Daniel whispered, his voice vibrating with absolute authority. "Then I'm going to strip his entire corporate portfolio down to the studs before breakfast."
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