Chapter 5 - Checking the LedgerDante’s hand whipped the pistol out from his holster, leveling the barrel straight at Nicholas’s chest.
"Stay back!" Dante screamed, his voice cracking with rising hysteria as the surrounding crowd ducked behind tables and pillars. "I don't care if you crawled out of hell or a burn unit—you're not walking out of here alive a second time!"
Nicholas didn't even slow down. He didn't blink. He kept walking straight toward the barrel of the gun with the terrifying calm of a man who had stared down death a hundred times before.
"Go ahead, Dante," Nicholas said smoothly, stopping just five feet away. "Pull the trigger. Let everyone in this room see the man who tried to steal the throne. See how long your loyalists keep following you once they realize you're a dead man walking."
Dante’s finger trembled on the trigger. Sweat beaded on his forehead, mixing with the panic in his eyes. He glanced around the room and saw the faces of the board members—men and women who had backed him only because they thought Nicholas was ash. Now, seeing the living king standing before them with an army at his back, their expressions hardened with betrayal toward Dante.
"You're finished," Dante whispered, his voice shaking.
"No, Dante," I said, stepping out from the shadows beside Nicholas and walking right up to the trembling traitor. "We are."
With a sudden, violent movement, Nicholas’s hand flashed out like a striking viper. He knocked the pistol upward just as Dante pulled the trigger. The gunshot deafened the room, a blinding flash of light erupting into the high ceiling as the bullet buried itself harmlessly in the plaster molding.
Before Dante could recover, Nicholas’s fist connected squarely with his jaw with the force of a wrecking ball. Dante crumpled to the marble floor, spitting blood, his nose broken and his pristine cream jacket stained with dust.
Nicholas stood over him, looking down with cold, emotionless eyes. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a thick leather-bound ledger, and dropped it right onto Dante’s chest.
"What is that?" Dante spat out, wiping blood from his lip.
"That," Nicholas said quietly, "is every shell corporation, every offshore account, and every bribe you funneled away from the Moretti shipping lines over the last six months. My lawyers downloaded your entire digital footprint while you were busy planning this party."
Dante stared at the book in absolute horror. Every drop of color vanished from his face. He knew what that ledger meant. In the underworld, betrayal wasn't punished by prison time—it was answered with total, irreversible erasure.
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"Take him away," Nicholas commanded without looking back.
Two of the tactical guards stepped forward, hauling Dante up by his arms like a ragdoll and dragging him backward down the dark corridor, his heels scraping helplessly against the polished floor until the heavy mahogany wall slid shut once more, sealing him away.
