Chapter 2 - The Green-Eyed ViperThe helicopter touched down on the private helipad of the Mercer estate in Greenwich just past midnight. The sprawling Georgian mansion loomed against the stormy Connecticut sky like a monument to old money and dark secrets. Lights blazed warmly from the grand library windows, casting long golden rectangles across the manicured lawns.
They didn't know I was coming.
Marco stepped out first, securing the perimeter with two tactical operatives, while I strode briskly toward the massive oak double doors. I didn't bother knocking. Marco’s master override key card clicked against the digital lock, and the heavy doors swung open with a smooth, expensive hiss.
Inside, the foyer smelled of polished mahogany, beeswax, and expensive French perfume.
"Luke?"
A soft, melodic voice echoed from the direction of the drawing-room. Julianna appeared in the archway, draped in a silk cashmere robe, a glass of vintage Pinot Noir in her hand. Her blonde hair was styled in loose waves, her expression a masterclass of theatrical surprise.
"What on earth are you doing here at this hour? I thought you were locked up in your Tribeca fortress brooding over your tragic divorce."
I stopped dead in my tracks, slowly removing my leather gloves and dropping them onto the marble entry table.
"Where is she, Julianna?"
Julianna took a slow sip of her wine, her blue eyes—so remarkably like our mother’s—narrowing with calculated innocence. "Who are you talking about, dear brother? If this is about your little ex-wife, I told you months ago when you signed those papers: trash takes itself out. You're better off without a gold-digger who only wanted the Mercer name."
In two long strides, I crossed the foyer, gripped her wine glass by the stem, and crushed it against the nearest marble pillar. Red wine exploded across the stone like fresh blood, and glass shattered everywhere.
Julianna gasped, stumbling backward against the wall, her artificial composure cracking instantly. "Are you out of your mind?! You absolute maniac!"
"You called her a gold-digger," I said, my voice dangerously low as I loomed over her, every inch of my frame radiating a lethal pressure. "You cut off her emergency stipends, you forged eviction notices, you intercepted her mail, and according to St. Catherine’s Medical Center, you systematically introduced low-dose heavy metals into her grocery deliveries to cause a miscarriage."
Color drained entirely from Julianna’s face. Her breathing hitched, but she quickly forced her chin up, adopting a defensive snarl.
"You have no proof! That’s paranoid garbage! You’ve been working too many hours in that cynical city of yours, Luke—"
"Marco," I called out without turning around.
From the shadows of the hallway, Marco stepped forward, dropping a thick, waterproof portfolio onto the mahogany entry table and flipping it open.
"Here is the IP log tracking the proxy servers used to spoof the Mercer Family Trust," Marco recited evenly, reading from the audit sheet. "Here are the signed delivery receipts from a specialty apothecary in Manhattan, shipped directly to this estate under an alias, containing mercury-laced herbal supplements that ended up in Elena’s organic meal subscription boxes. And here," Marco tapped a final document, "is the signed bank transfer of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars from your private account managed by Julianna to a shady private investigator who tracked Elena’s every movement for the last six months."
Julianna stared at the papers, her lips trembling. The game was up. The clever, untouchable princess of the Mercer family had been completely exposed.
"She didn't belong with us, Luke!" Julianna suddenly shrieked, abandoning all pretense of innocence as tears of pure malice welled in her eyes. "She was a nobody from an ordinary family! You were supposed to marry into the Sterling conglomerate to secure our shipping monopoly! Instead, you married an art restorer who didn't know a hedge fund from a hedge maze! If you had a child with her, she would have anchored you to mediocrity forever! I was saving our legacy!"
I stared at my sister, feeling a profound, chilling detachment. The bond of blood didn't mean a damn thing when rot had set into the core.
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"You weren't saving our legacy, Julianna," I said quietly. "You were protecting your own allowance. Because you knew that once I had a child of my own, my estate planning would prioritize my direct heirs, cutting your endless line of vanity projects off entirely."
I turned to Marco. "Call federal prosecutors. File charges for attempted corporate extortion, malicious poisoning, and conspiracy to commit murder. And lock her in the East Wing guest suite. She doesn't leave this property under any circumstances until the marshals arrive at dawn."
