THE BILLIONAIRE’S HIDDEN HEIR: 10 SECONDS TO LOCKDOWN

Derek took two unsteady steps into the vault, his designer tuxedo caked in mud, blood, and rain. His eyes were bloodshot and dilated, burning with the desperate madness of an animal backed into a corner.

"My father is dead," Derek whispered, his voice cracking into a shrill, hysterical pitch. "Your barbarian guard shot him in the hallway! My family... our empire... you think you can tear it down with a goddamn flash drive?"

Isabella did not step away from the terminal. She stood tall, her hand holding the silver drive inches above the slot, her hazel eyes staring down the black barrel of the shotgun without blinking.

"Your father was a monster, Derek," Isabella said, her voice dropping into an icy, unshakeable calm. "And you are nothing more than a pathetic, spoiled coward hiding behind his shadow."

"SHUT UP!" Derek screamed, cocking the shotgun with a violent jerk of his wrist. "Step away from the pedestal and hand me the drive! Hand it to me right now, or I'll blow your head off and take it from your corpse!"

From the shadows beside the reinforced wall, a low, rasping voice cut through the tension like a straight razor:

"You won't touch her."

Derek’s head snapped toward the corner.

Victor was struggling to his feet.

He was holding his bleeding side with one hand, his face white as chalk, but his eyes burned with a primal, terrifying fury that froze Derek in his tracks. In Victor’s other hand was the combat blade he had retrieved from the fallen operative upstairs.

"You're a dead man, Victor," Derek spat, though his hands shook visibly as he shifted the shotgun barrel toward Victor. "You're bleeding out! You can't even stand!"

"I don't need to stand to kill you, Derek," Victor said, his voice flat, hollow, and utterly devoid of mercy.

"Don't move or I fire!" Derek shrieked, panic overtaking his rage.

"DO IT, LYRA!" Victor roared.

Isabella slammed the silver drive into the terminal port.

A sharp, digital chime echoed through the vault. The blue screen instantly exploded into cascading lines of green data.

*UPLINK ESTABLISHED. BROADCAST INITIATED.*

Derek turned toward Isabella in blind, hysterical fury, swinging the shotgun to pull the trigger—

Victor lunged.

With the last reserve of strength in his dying body, Victor threw himself across the room. He didn't try to disarm Derek. He grabbed the barrel of the shotgun with his bare, bleeding hand, wrenching it upward toward the reinforced stone ceiling just as Derek pulled the trigger.

*BOOM!*

The heavy blast obliterated the light fixtures overhead, showering the vault in sparks and plunging it into the crimson emergency glow once more.

Derek screamed, trying to cycle another round, but Victor drove his forehead directly into Derek’s broken nose with a sickening crunch. Derek stumbled backward, dropping the shotgun, clutching his shattered face in agony.

Before Derek could recover, Isabella stepped forward.

Her maid’s uniform was soaked in blood, but her eyes were the eyes of Julian Vance. She didn't hesitate. She drew the combat knife from Victor's weak grip, stepped into Derek's space, and drove the butt of the heavy steel hilt directly into Derek's temple.

Derek dropped to the flagstones like a sack of wet cement, completely unconscious.

The shotgun shell casing rolled across the stone floor, coming to a rest beside Derek’s limp fingers.

Silence returned to the vault.

On the main terminal, a progress bar reached one hundred percent.

*BROADCAST COMPLETE. 4,812 ENCRYPTED FILES TRANSMITTED TO GLOBAL ENFORCEMENT NETWORKS.*

Isabella turned around.

Victor had collapsed against the base of the pedestal. His eyes were fluttering closed, his chest barely moving beneath the blood-soaked fabric of his shirt.

"Victor!" Isabella dropped to her knees beside him, pulling his head onto her lap. "Victor, stay with me! It's done! It's over! They have the files! Arthur is dead, Derek is finished—you won, Victor! You won!"

Victor looked up at her, a faint, peaceful smile touching his pale lips. He reached up, his fingers weakly brushing against the empty space on her collarbone where the pendant used to hang.

"You... won, Lyra," he whispered, his voice fading into a gentle sigh. "Julian... would be proud..."

His hand slipped from her face, falling heavily to the cold stone floor. His eyes closed.