Chapter 7 - The Shadows in Manhattan
The private jet touched down at John F. Kennedy International Airport in New York just after midnight.
A convoy of black armored SUVs was waiting directly on the tarmac, their headlights shining through the light sea fog.
Harold and Ethan stepped into the back of the lead vehicle, surrounded by four silent, heavily armed bodyguards.
"Where are we going, Mr. Grant?" Ethan asked, looking out at the glittering lights of the Manhattan skyline in the distance.
"To the headquarters of Grant Enterprises," Harold replied, his tone growing serious as he looked at his encrypted phone.
"My sudden public appearance in Chicago has triggered a desperate reaction from my board of directors."
"They thought I was bedridden in Aspen, incapable of managing the company or overseeing the upcoming merger."
"Who is trying to take your company, sir?" Ethan asked, sensing the heavy tension rising inside the vehicle.
"My nephew, Victor Grant," Harold said, his voice laced with profound disappointment and deep sorrow.
"Victor has been secretly liquidating our domestic assets and selling our security infrastructure to a foreign syndicate."
"He orchestrated the fake news of my failing health to force an emergency board vote tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM."
The SUV pulled into the subterranean parking garage of a towering seventy-story skyscraper in Midtown Manhattan.
As the heavy steel security gates lowered behind them, the elevator doors at the end of the garage slid open.
A tall man in a tailored tuxedo stepped out into the dim garage lights, flanked by three muscular men in dark trench coats.
It was Victor Grant, wearing a cold, mocking smile that sent a shiver straight down Ethan's spine.
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"Welcome home, Uncle Harold," Victor said, his voice dripping with venomous arrogance.
"I see you picked up a trashy little stray from the airport terminal on your way back to civilization."
