2025-08-16 16:21:48The black Maserati purred to a stop outside the glass-fronted high-rise. Sébastien didn’t wait for the valet; he stepped out, coat billowing in the cold night air, eyes fixed on the revolving doors ahead.
Inside, the lobby was all marble and chrome, polished enough to reflect the tension in his expression. Alain trailed behind, his phone to his ear, murmuring updates from the surveillance team. “She’s here,” Alain confirmed.
They found Jenna in the private conference lounge on the 34th floor. She was alone at the moment, sipping white wine, her posture flawless. The years hadn’t dulled her beauty, if anything, she’d grown sharper, more refined, but there was a brittleness in her smile now, a subtle tightness around the eyes.
When she looked up and saw him, her hand froze halfway to her lips. “Sébastien…” she said his name like she was testing the taste of it after a long absence.
He stepped closer, the hum of the city lights filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. “We need to talk.”
“About?” Her tone was cool, but there was a flicker, barely there of something she couldn’t mask.
“Bay Four,” he said simply.
Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You were caught on camera, Jenna,” he replied. “Breaking into a facility you have no business being in. With Markus Varga.”
She set her glass down slowly. “You’ve been watching me.”
“You make it sound personal,” he said evenly. “It’s business.”
The door behind her opened, and Markus walked in without knocking. He moved with the self-assurance of a man who’d never been denied entry anywhere.
“Ah,” Markus said with a faint smile, “so this is the famous Sébastien Moreau. I was hoping you’d drop by.”
Sébastien didn’t turn to him. His gaze stayed on Jenna. “You’ve stepped into something dangerous. Walk away while you still can.”
Markus chuckled. “She’s not walking away, Moreau. She’s exactly where she wants to be.”
Jenna’s voice cut through. “Why do you care, Sébastien? We’re not married anymore. You made sure of that.”
His jaw tightened. “I cared enough not to let you drown without knowing it.”
She scoffed, but the sound didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m doing fine.”
“Then you won’t mind if I sink Markus before he gets a chance to use you.”
Markus stepped forward, his smile fading. “Careful. This isn’t your boardroom, Moreau. Out here, deals are written in blood, not ink.”
The tension was sharp enough to cut. Jenna glanced between them, sensing the edges of a conflict far beyond her.
“I’m not your problem anymore,” she said, though the words sounded more like a defense than a truth.
Sébastien leaned in, his voice low. “You never stopped being my problem, Jenna. You just became someone else’s weapon.”
Before she could respond, Alain burst in, pale. “They found the freighter.”
Sébastien straightened. “Where?”
Alain hesitated, glancing at Markus, then back to Sébastien. “At the bottom of the channel. And it wasn’t an accident, the crew’s gone.”
Markus’s eyes narrowed. “You should go take care of that, Moreau. Unless you want to be next.”
Sébastien moved toward the door but paused, looking back at Jenna. “When this falls apart, and it will, don’t expect me to pull you out.”
Her lips parted, but no words came. In the hallway, Alain caught up to him. “There’s more,” he said in a whisper. “We intercepted a comms log from the freighter. Last transmission came from inside… and the voice was hers.”
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Chapter 14 – Silent Warnings
The tail had been easy enough to maintain, Jenna’s patterns were predictable, the same streets, the same coffee shops, the same late-night drives that ended with her staring out over the harbor like she was looking for answers in the dark water.For Luka Voss, predictability was a gift, He’d been in Sébastien’s service for nearly a decade, first as a covert security operative, later as the man responsible for “trouble containment.” The kind of trouble that couldn’t be solved with lawyers.Tonight, he was crouched on the roof of a parking structure, night-vision optics fixed on her car. “She’s alone,” Luka murmured into his comms. “No tail on her except us. But she met Varga again last night.”The voice on the other end was deep, steady. “You’re sure it was Varga?”“Positive. And he’s digging. Hard.” Luka adjusted focus. “Looks like he’s trying to get into your Marseille records.”There was a short silence before Sébastien’s reply came. “Then it’s time he learns what happens when he pu
Chapter 13 – Threads of the Past
Markus never worked in the daylight unless he had to, His true operations thrived in the quiet hours after midnight, when the rest of the city’s powerful slept, believing themselves untouchable. Tonight was one of those nights.The penthouse was dark except for the soft glow of three monitors. Each displayed a different stream of data, financial records, old press clippings, and encrypted surveillance stills.“Is that all you could find?” Markus asked without looking up.His fixer, a wiry man with pale eyes named Rylan, shifted uncomfortably. “Sébastien Duclair’s public record is… clean. Too clean. Every transaction is legitimate, every property acquisition routed through a wall of shell companies. No criminal ties, no scandals, no lawsuits.”“That’s not a clean record,” Markus said, leaning back in his chair. “That’s a scrubbed one. Someone with the resources to make entire years vanish.”Rylan hesitated, then slid a thin folder across the desk. “There is… something. I traced one of
Chapter 12 – The Gathering
The invitation burned in Jenna’s handbag all week, She told herself she wouldn’t go. She told herself she wouldn’t give Markus the satisfaction. But by Saturday evening, she found herself standing in front of a discreet black building on the edge of the financial district.Two men in perfectly tailored suits flanked the door. Neither smiled when she gave them her name, but both stepped aside.Inside, the air was thick with wealth, the soft clink of crystal, the low hum of important conversations. Every man and woman here was someone she’d once fought to impress. Now they barely glanced at her.Markus spotted her from across the room. His smile was slow, predatory. “You came,” he said.She handed him the envelope with the card inside. “Don’t think this means I trust you.”“You don’t have to,” Markus replied. “You just have to deliver the message.”It wasn’t until an hour later that the atmosphere shifted. A subtle hush rippled through the crowd. Heads turned toward the entrance. Sébast
Chapter 11 – The Bait
Jenna’s phone rang just as she was finishing a bitter cup of instant coffee in her small apartment. The number was unfamiliar, but something in her gut told her to answer.“Jenna Whitmore?” the voice was smooth, cultured, the kind of tone that suggested expensive suits and more expensive motives.“Yes. Who’s calling?”“An admirer,” the man said lightly. “I saw the footage from the auction. You were… in quite a predicament.”Her chest tightened. “And you are?”“My name’s Markus Varga. I think we can help each other.”She almost hung up. She knew the name, everyone in the city’s old money circles knew it. Markus was a shark in a custom-tailored suit. The kind of man her father warned her about, even while doing business with worse. “I’m not looking for trouble,” she said.“Oh, I’m not offering trouble, Ms. Whitmore. I’m offering redemption.” He let the word linger. “I hear your career has… slowed. I can change that.”By the time she agreed to meet, it was already too late, The café Mark
Chapter 10 – The Lion’s Den
The sun was barely up when Sébastien’s phone buzzed, It wasn’t Alain, It wasn’t any of his usual contacts, It was a single message from an unknown number: Breakfast at the Atrium. Alone.No signature, but Sébastien didn’t need one. Markus Varga was extending a hand or setting a trap. Either way, he wasn’t going to refuse.The Atrium wasn’t just a restaurant; it was a theater of wealth. Sunlight poured through its towering glass ceiling, gilding marble floors and mirrored walls. Waiters in pressed white jackets moved silently between tables, serving the city’s elite their caviar and champagne breakfasts.When Sébastien arrived, Markus was already seated at a corner table, back to the wall, coffee in hand. Two bodyguards flanked him, eyes scanning the room like hawks.Markus gestured to the empty chair opposite him. “I was starting to think you’d lost your appetite.”Sébastien sat, unhurried. “I’m selective about who I eat with.”The two men studied each other for a long moment. Markus
Chapter 9 – The First Counterblow
Rain hammered against the city streets, blurring neon into streaks of red and blue. Markus Varga stood in his study, tie loosened, pacing like a predator trapped in a cage.His phone buzzed. “It’s done,” the voice on the other end said. “We traced the bank closures back to an offshore audit firm in Geneva. They’re… well-protected.”“How protected?” Markus demanded.“Protected enough that whoever’s behind this has reach in multiple jurisdictions. That’s not cheap.”Markus stopped pacing. “Then we make them bleed somewhere else.”He tossed the phone onto the desk and turned toward Jenna, who sat on the leather sofa in a silk dress, legs crossed. “You’re going to the Langley auction tomorrow,” Markus said.“Why?”“Because the man pulling these strings will be there,” Markus replied, pouring himself a drink. “And you’re going to get close enough to find out who he is.”Jenna arched a brow. “And what makes you think he’ll talk to me?”Markus’s smile was slow and cold. “Because he already k
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