Chapter 4 - THE TENTH FLOOR GAMBITThe two guards lunged forward like hunting dogs closing in on a wounded stag. The first guard, a mountain of a man with a broken nose, threw a vicious right hook aimed directly at Ethan’s jaw.
Ethan didn't flinch. Years ago, before he inherited the shipping empire, he had spent three grueling years in the Israeli merchant marines. The rust might have settled, but the muscle memory never died.
He ducked under the punch, grabbed the guard's outstretched wrist, and used his momentum to slam him shoulder-first into the heavy oak bookshelf. Volumes of 19th-century maritime law cascaded down like an avalanche, burying the man in leather-bound literature.
The second guard hesitated, drawing a heavy metal baton from his belt. "You're making a mistake, Mr. Vance—"
"The only mistake was marrying that parasite," Ethan growled.
He lunged forward, executing a sharp palm strike to the guard's sternum, followed by a swift sweep of the legs. The man crashed hard onto the Persian rug, the wind knocked out of him instantly.
Vanessa’s smile vanished. Her face drained of all color as she backed away toward the open doorway, her manicured fingers clawing at the doorframe. "You... you shouldn't be able to fight back. The tonic in your drink—"
"I stopped drinking your scotch three weeks ago, Vanessa," Ethan said, stepping out from the shadows of the library, his eyes fixed on her like a predator cornering its prey. "I noticed the taste. I switched the decanters with bottled water."
Vanessa spun around and sprinted down the corridor, her bare feet slapping desperately against the hardwood floor. "Mom! Security! Someone stop him!"
Ethan didn't chase her immediately. He walked steadily, his boots clicking with rhythmic finality. He knew every inch of this mansion better than she ever would. He bypassed the main staircase, cutting through the servant gallery that led directly to the grand foyer overlooking the ballroom.
Down below, police sirens wailed in the distance. Red and blue lights flashed against the towering arched windows, casting eerie, shifting patterns across the marble floor.
Chloe hadn't just gone home; she had called her uncle—who happened to be the Chief of the City Police Department.
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Vanessa burst into the foyer, breathless and panicked, only to find the front doors pushed wide open. Standing in the doorway, flanked by four uniformed officers with their badges gleaming under the chandeliers, was Chief Harrison himself.
"Mrs. Vanessa Vance?" Chief Harrison's voice boomed across the foyer, cold and authoritative. "You need to come with us."
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