Chapter 1 - The Shadow in the Wardrobe
Coming home early was supposed to be harmless, but the moment I stepped into my dark bedroom, my housekeeper grabbed me, covered my mouth, and dragged me into my own closet.
“Don’t make a sound,” she whispered, shaking against me, and seconds later, I heard the voice of someone I loved giving orders to the men who had come to kill me.
Emily pulled the closet door nearly shut, leaving only a thin crack between us and the bedroom. She had worked for me for three years, quiet and almost invisible, but now her icy fingers pressed against my lips while pure terror burned in her eyes.
The bedroom lights suddenly snapped on, and heavy footsteps crossed the hardwood floor.
“They think you’re still out of town,” Emily breathed into my ear. “If they hear you, you won’t leave this room alive.”
A drawer slid open, followed by the unmistakable metallic click of a gun being handled. My blood went cold because, for thirty years, I had built an empire in New York through loyalty, fear, and blood, and enemies who wanted me dead knew better than to walk casually into my home.
Through the narrow crack, I counted three moving shadows. One man searched my nightstand while another walked straight toward the private safe hidden behind the oil painting of my grandfather.
My stomach tightened because nobody outside my inner circle knew that safe existed.
“Three men,” Emily whispered. “They’ve been waiting about twenty minutes for you.”
My security system covered the entire property, which meant these men couldn't have entered unnoticed. Someone I trusted had opened the door.
Then footsteps started toward the closet, and Emily shoved me deeper between my suits before placing herself in front of me like a shield. That was when I looked down and saw the pistol tucked against her hip.
The woman who polished my crystal and brought me coffee every morning had secretly been carrying a gun inside my house.
Before I could ask why, a voice came from the bedroom. “Check every room again. He should’ve been here by now.”
Every muscle in my body froze because I knew that voice.
It was Jason, my nephew.
After my brother died, I had raised Jason like my own son, teaching him the business and protecting him from enemies who would've buried him without a second thought. I trusted him with responsibilities I wouldn't give men who had served me for decades, yet he was standing ten feet away, waiting to ambush me.
“Maybe he changed his plans,” another man said. “The old man’s getting paranoid.”
“No,” Jason snapped. “Tom confirmed he left the warehouse an hour ago. Victor never deviates from his routine.”
Tom was another man I trusted, and hearing his name felt like another knife sliding between my ribs. Beside me, however, Emily didn't look shocked at all.
She looked like someone hearing confirmation of what she already knew.
“The safe’s clean,” the third man announced. “Just cash and jewelry.”
Jason laughed softly. “He keeps the real secrets somewhere else. We need him alive long enough to tell us where.”
My fists tightened as the truth settled over me. Jason hadn't acted on impulse because he'd studied my routine, compromised my security, recruited people inside my organization, and entered my home knowing exactly where to search.
But then I looked at Emily again, and another terrifying question pushed everything else aside. My quiet housekeeper somehow knew they were coming, knew how many men there were, knew they were armed, and had brought a weapon of her own.
I slowly turned toward her, but she raised one finger to her lips. Then she leaned close enough that I could feel her trembling breath against my ear.
“There’s something else you need to know,” she whispered. “This isn't just about money or territory.”
May you like
I stared at her as she glanced toward the armed men outside the closet, then back at me. What she whispered next made Jason's betrayal seem like the least dangerous secret hiding inside my own house.
“Your brother didn't die of a heart attack nine years ago, Victor,” Emily breathed. “Jason poisoned him.”
