CHAPTER 12: THE GHOST OF NEW YORK
Julian’s private jet cut through the stratosphere at Mach 0.9, leaving the sun-drenched beauty of Italy far behind as it raced toward the concrete canyons of New York City. He had lied to Elena. He hated it, the metallic taste of deceit on his tongue, but he had told her it was an emergency board meeting for Rossi International. He couldn't let her live in fear again.
The Grand Alcazar Hotel loomed against the Manhattan skyline like a towering monument to Julian’s victory, but tonight, it felt like a mausoleum. He bypassed the glamorous lobby, taking the private, biometric elevator directly to the underground levels—the secure server rooms where the hotel’s darkest secrets were once kept by Victor.
Waiting for him in the dimly lit, humming server room was a man known only as 'The Broker.' He was a ghost in the financial underworld, a man who traded in information that could topple governments.
"You look tense, Julian," The Broker murmured, adjusting the lapels of his immaculate gray suit. "Fatherhood making you soft?"
"I don't pay you five million dollars a year for banter," Julian snapped, slamming the platinum Macau casino chip onto the steel table between them. "Who left this at my home?"
The Broker’s smirk vanished. He looked at the chip as if it were radioactive. "Victor owed money. A lot of it. When you dismantled his accounts and threw him in a federal cell, you vaporized two hundred million dollars belonging to Alexei Volkov."
Julian’s jaw clenched. Alexei Volkov was a ghost story whispered among billionaires—a ruthless oligarch who controlled illicit shipping routes and shadow banks across three continents. Volkov didn't do business; he did executions.
"Volkov considers the debt transferred to you, Julian, since you absorbed Victor's seized assets," The Broker explained, his voice hushed. "He wants the money. Or he wants blood. The snapped white rose... that's his signature. It means the grace period is over."
Before Julian could process the magnitude of the threat, his secure encrypted phone buzzed. It was a video call. The caller ID was blocked. Julian swiped to accept.
The screen flickered to life. It wasn't Volkov. It was a live feed of the Rossi estate in Tuscany. The camera was zoomed in on the second-story nursery window. Through the glass, Julian could see the faint silhouette of Elena rocking Isabella to sleep.
"A beautiful family, Mr. Rossi," a heavily accented, mechanical voice echoed through the speaker. "Two hundred million by Friday. Or the next rose we leave will be red."
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Julian’s vision swam with pure, unadulterated fury. The screen went black. The war had officially begun.
Julian is backed into a corner by a global predator. How far will a father go to protect his blood? Don't miss the explosive events in Chapter 13!
