Chapter 2 - Marcus Vale Relives the Night of the Blast
Marcus Vale stood in the dimly lit shadow of the grand hallway, watching the wheelchair roll away.
His polished leather shoes made no sound against the Persian rug as he adjusted his platinum cufflinks.
Three years ago, those exact cufflinks had been a gift from Adrian Moretti after a successful dock acquisition.
And three years ago, Marcus had been the one who secretly modified the GPS route on the family sedan.
He remembered the silent explosion, the flash of fire across the Hudson curve, and the screams that never came.
He had expected Adrian to die in that wreckage alongside Claire and little Sophie, leaving the syndicate ripe for a quiet takeover.
Instead, Adrian had survived in a wheelchair, locked inside this sprawling Westchester fortress like a wounded predator.
Marcus ran a thumb over his palm, remembering the cold sweat of betrayal that had washed over him that terrible night.
“You should have died in the car, boss,” Marcus whispered to the empty, echoing corridor with chilling indifference.
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He turned on his heel, his mind already calculating the next move to finish what the car bomb had failed to accomplish.
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