Chapter 7 - the architect's tax
The next morning, rain swept across Manhattan, blurring the skyline into shades of grey and slate. Inside the high-ceilinged library of the Romano penthouse overlooking Central Park, the air smelled of old paper, leather, and dark mahogany.
Augustus sat behind a massive oak desk, a cup of black coffee steaming softly beside a stack of physical paper ledgers. He wore a dark grey wool vest over a crisp white shirt, his sleeves neatly rolled to his forearms. He held a golden fountain pen, methodically reviewing lines of numbers.
A soft knock sounded at the heavy double doors.
"Enter," Augustus said smoothly.
The doors opened, revealing Thomas Vance. The powerful elder stepped inside, closing the doors quietly behind him. He walked over to the desk and stood at attention, his posture humble and respectful.
"The Crane assets have been frozen and transferred to the primary trust, boss," Vance reported quietly. "Damian has spent the last six hours trying to reach his bank directors, but no one is taking his calls. Victoria tried to file a police report regarding the asset movement, but the federal magistrate we retained thirty years ago personally dismissed the filing."
Augustus didn't look up from his ledger. "How did Damian react?"
"He's terrified. Victoria is furious. She's currently reaching out to her family's old contacts in Chicago, trying to secure liquid capital to hire private security."
A subtle, cold smile touched the corner of Augustus's lips. "Chicago. Her uncle still thinks he controls the midwest docks, I presume?"
"He does, boss."
"Inform Chicago that if they wire a single dollar to Victoria Crane, their lease on the Great Lakes shipping corridors will be terminated by Monday morning."
Vance bowed his head. "Understood, boss."
Vance paused for a moment, hesitating before asking his next question. "Boss... if I may ask... why did you allow them to go so far? You let them push you into that chair for three years. You let them treat you like a ghost."
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Augustus finally laid his fountain pen down on the blotter. He leaned back in his leather armchair, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window at the rain falling over the city.
"A man who shows his strength every day invites challengers," Augustus said softly, his voice calm and cold. "A man who lets his enemies believe he is weak allows them to reveal their true intentions. Damian wanted my power. Victoria wanted my name. But neither of them ever understood what it costs to keep it."
