CHAPTER 7
The front double doors flew open not with a gentle knock, but with the heavy, unyielding push of federal authority. Elena Sterling stepped into the grand foyer, flanked by two towering federal marshals and her lead corporate prosecutor.
She wore a tailored obsidian designer pantsuit, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders in sleek waves that radiated absolute power and poise. Mark froze halfway down the staircase, his breath catching in his throat as the ghost of his past materialized before his eyes.
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“Elena...” Mark whispered, stumbling backward a half-step as if he were looking at a phantom rising from the grave.
“You thought you could bury me with forged contracts and bought-off judges, Mark?” Elena asked, her voice echoing coldly off the marble pillars of the foyer. “You made a catastrophic mistake when you let that monster touch my daughter.”
