Chapter 3 - The Bloodline
I backed away from the desk, my knees feeling incredibly weak.
"I don't know anything about the mafia or assassination codes," I pleaded.
"I was hired by an elite agency to care for a sick child."
Logan picked up the recorder and threw it violently against the wall, shattering it into tiny pieces.
"The agency is owned by a shell company, which is entirely owned by me," he shouted.
"I personally selected your file out of hundreds because of your grandmother's name."
I gasped, realizing this entire high-paying job was a carefully orchestrated trap.
"You used your dying daughter as bait?" I asked, completely disgusted by the revelation.
Logan’s expression darkened, and he stepped dangerously close to my face.
"Sophia's illness is very real, and I will do absolutely anything to save her life."
"But the leukemia isn't what is going to kill her."
He walked over to the massive bookshelf and pulled a thick, leather-bound volume.
The entire shelf clicked and swung open, revealing a hidden, soundproof room.
"Come here," he ordered.
I hesitated, but the dangerous look in his eyes told me I had no choice.
I stepped into the hidden room, which was covered in surveillance photographs, maps, and connecting red strings.
It looked like the desperate obsession of a madman.
Right in the center of the wall was a large, black-and-white photograph of my grandmother, Maria Foster.
But she wasn't smiling in a sunny garden.
She was wearing a tailored suit, standing beside a young, terrifyingly familiar man.
"That is my father, Antonio Rossi," Logan said quietly.
My mind shattered as I realized the respected billionaire was actually the hidden heir to a criminal empire.
"Your grandmother wasn't just a killer, Emma."
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"She was the head of the rival family, and she ordered the hit on my wife."
Before I could even process this insane truth, the study doors suddenly exploded inward.
