Chapter 9 - The Penthouse Breach
Ethan froze, his eyes snapping from the broken glass to the portrait on the wall.
"That is my younger sister, Clara," Ethan said, his voice entirely devoid of warmth.
"She died three years ago on the operating table during a routine procedure."
He walked slowly toward the painting, tracing the frame with trembling fingers.
"The surgeon who operated on her was Dr. Adrian Vaughn."
The final piece of the terrifying puzzle locked into place, making me sick to my stomach.
Adrian hadn't framed me just to steal money, and he didn't hate Ethan because of business.
Adrian had murdered Clara, taken her tattoo as a twisted trophy, and spent years hunting Ethan to finish destroying his family.
"He branded himself with her memory," I whispered, utterly horrified by the monster I had slept next to.
"We have to call the FBI, Ethan, this isn't just fraud anymore, it's premeditated murder."
Ethan turned to face me, a dark, vengeful fury burning in his eyes.
"The FBI won't touch him because he owns half the judges in this city," Ethan said coldly.
"I am going to handle Adrian myself."
Before I could ask what he meant, the entire penthouse plunged into absolute darkness.
The heavy steel shutters over the floor-to-ceiling windows slammed shut with a mechanical grinding noise.
The backup generator didn't kick on.
A red error light blinked angrily on the central security console by the elevator.
Someone had cut the primary power lines from the basement level.
"Stay behind me," Ethan ordered, pulling a heavy, suppressed handgun from a hidden compartment under the kitchen island.
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The heavy metallic clank of the private elevator engaging echoed through the silent apartment.
Someone had bypassed the biometric locks, and they were coming up.
