Chapter 5 - the bloodline rule
The suppressed gunshot made a soft thwack sound, the heavy round shattering the wall right beside Julian's head, spraying plaster dust into the air.
Julian froze, his hand hovering over his coat, his face turning sheet-white.
"Hands on the desk," Cole commanded coldly, his weapon pointed directly at Julian's chest. "Slowly."
Julian placed his palms flat on the mahogany wood. "Cole... you don't understand what's happening. I wasn't spying on you for Harold. I was protecting you from the board!"
"By stealing Harold's medical journal?" Cole asked, stepping around the desk. "By reporting my son's existence to the council?"
"The board already knew about the boy!" Julian spat out, his composure breaking. "Harold brought Hannah to Chicago, but he couldn't hide the medical bills! The council chairman, Silas Mercer—your uncle—has had eyes on Hannah for three years! He waited for Harold to die so he could use the boy to strip you of your inheritance!"
Cole stepped forward, driving the barrel of his gun under Julian's chin, forcing his head back. "Explain."
"Under the 1924 Family Charter," Julian stammered, sweating profusely, "if an reigning boss produces a male heir out of wedlock with a non-syndicate family, the council has the right to freeze all family trusts until the child turns eighteen—placing the entire estate under a board-appointed regency. Silas doesn't want to kill Owen, Cole! He wants to adopt him legally to take total control of the Mercer billions!"
The cold logic of the trap unfolded in Cole's mind. Harold hadn't kept Owen a secret to protect Hannah from physical harm—he had kept him secret to prevent Silas from using the boy as a legal weapon to hijack the entire Mercer empire.
"Where is Silas right now?" Cole asked.
"He's at the First National Bank," Julian whimpered. "He knows about Vault 412. He's waiting for midnight to serve a court injunction to seize the box before you can open it!"
Suddenly, the heavy iron doors of the mansion front hall burst open. The sound of shouting guards and heavy boots echoed up the grand staircase.
Marcus, Cole's loyal harbor captain, burst into the office with three heavily armed men, holding two of Julian's perimeter guards at gunpoint.
"House is secure, boss," Marcus reported. "Julian's men have been disarmed."
Cole looked at Julian, his face devoid of mercy. "Lock him in the wine cellar. If he tries to speak, break his jaw."
Cole turned to Marcus. "Get the armored cars ready. We have twenty minutes to reach First National Bank before midnight."
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As Cole walked back down the hall to fetch Hannah and Owen, his phone buzzed again. It was a text from an untraceable number:
You have the key, nephew. But I have the judge. See you at Vault 412.
