"Isabella, what are you doing sitting on this man's lap? Who is he?” Logan asked in a panic as soon as he stepped.Apples rolled across the marble tiles, knocking against the leg of the glass table with a dull thud.His wife sat comfortably on another man’s lap. Her head rested against his chest, her manicured fingers lazily tracing the line of his tie. The man didn’t even move when Logan appeared. He sat like he owned the room, like Logan didn’t exist.Logan’s heart hammered. “Isabella, what are you doing?”The man leaned back on the sofa, arm locked tightly around her waist. His suit was perfectly tailored, ash-gray Armani paired with polished Italian shoes. On his wrist gleamed a Patek Philippe, the kind that cost more than Logan’s yearly salary. A heavy sapphire ring glittered on his hand. His smirk carried the arrogance of someone born at the top.Isabella lifted her eyes toward Logan, her expression bored. “What does it look like I’m doing?”Her grandfather,Mr Hart, tapped his c

Down in the lobby, Logan stood exactly where they had left him in silence, his expression was unreadable, as he was surrounded by whispers. The guards still hovered nearby, waiting for the final order.And the secretary, face flushed with shame, hurried toward him.When the two security guards saw the secretary, they closed in on Logan. Their boots echoed against the polished floor, hands grabbing his arms roughly.“Alright, let’s move,” one said, tugging him toward the doors. “This lobby isn’t a shelter for the homeless.”The watching staff exchanged amused looks. Someone chuckled. “Finally. They’re tossing him out.”“Did he really say he came to see the Vice President?” another whispered. “What a joke.”Logan didn’t resist. His shoes slid quietly over the marble as they dragged him away. His face was calm, almost detached, but the sting of their words echoed in the lobby.“Stop!”The voice cracked like a whip.All eyes turned. The Vice President’s secretary rushed down the staircase

The study smelled faintly of paper and old leather. Logan sat behind the heavy oak desk, his eyes on the stack of files spread open. The names,hidden contracts, stashed funds, photographs. Every one of them circled back to the Rhodes.Ethan closed the door softly behind him. “You look like a man ready to go to war,” he said, strolling toward the desk.Logan didn’t look up. His fingers tapped against a folder stamped with the Rhodes hotel insignia. His voice was low, steady. “Not war, justice.”Ethan raised a brow, pulling out a chair and sitting. “Justice sounds a lot more than revenge when you say it.”Logan finally lifted his eyes, and the coldness there made Ethan pause. “The Harts destroyed me once. Now they rely on contracts, partnerships, and powerful allies to stay afloat. I'll cut those ties, and watch them crumble. No one will even want to be seen beside them.”Ethan leaned back, studying him. “And the Rhodes?”A faint, humorless smile ghosted across Logan’s lips. “Damian Rho

Ethan’s voice came steady, not excited. “Do not force anything. Manny, we don’t know what’s in there. We go slow. Claire, can you get a read on the room?” This was an important operation, Ethan was there to ensure there was no mistake.Claire’s feed came back, an overlay of heat signatures, cell pings, and a note, there was a hotel laptop on a server rack nearby that the senator’s aide used for recording meetings. The tech guys keyed a decryption request into Manny’s earpiece, they'd prepared a secured unlock code earlier using credentials obtained from the director’s files. They had no step-by-step instructions for breaking the lock, instead, they had legal access tokens the director had carelessly stored in an email, and the techs used that to authenticate to the hotel’s administrative console.Manny typed the code into a handheld terminal Ethan’s team provided, a small, authorized-looking device and the locker clicked. Inside sat a hard drive, wrapped in plastic, labeled with a h