A Sanctuary in the North

Static hissed through Julian's earpiece before David’s gravelly voice broke through, distorted by distance and interference. "Private tactical team, Mr. Vance. Plain clothes, suppressed weapons. They bypassed the front courtyard cameras using corporate override codes. They aren't local thugs—they're internal security from the holding firm."

Julian felt his jaw clench. Vance Global Holding. The board of directors.

"Where are the guests?" Julian asked, keeping his back pressed against the suite door while Elena placed the baby gently inside an antique bassinet in the corner.

"David here—I funneled the crowd into the east ballroom and secured the vault-rated fire doors," the security chief reported. "The guests are safe for now, but these hostiles are moving straight up the central staircase. They want the nursery records and whatever Christopher left behind. They want clean hands before the opening bell tomorrow."

Julian turned to Sofia. She had collapsed into the velvet vanity chair, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. The arrogance had evaporated, replaced by the shivering dread of a pawn realizing the king has abandoned the board.

"You gave them the security codes," Julian said, his voice flat.

Sofia looked up, tears cutting tracks through her makeup. "They promised Christopher wouldn't be hurt! They said it was just a restructuring, that he would step down quietly. But then he found out about the offshore dummy corporations... he threatened to go to the Department of Justice. They told me if I didn't help them secure his remaining shares through you, I'd end up in the same river they pulled his car from."

"Christopher was murdered," Elena interjected, stepping out from the nursery partition. "And you agreed to marry his brother to save your own skin."

"I was terrified!" Sofia cried out.