2026-06-27 23:00:44Mika forced a thin smile onto her lips, leaning into the trunk of the car to retrieve two gift boxes wrapped in tasteful cream paper. "Traffic," she said simply. "That's all."
Roland gave the packages a dismissive once-over, his gaze lingering just long enough to make his contempt clear. "What did you bring? I hope it's not some bargain-bin knockoff. Grandmother has standards, you know.""You needn't concern yourself with that." Mika's voice was level, neither timid nor aggressive.
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Roland Turner slammed the financial report onto his desk hard enough to scatter loose papers across the polished surface. His jaw was tight, knuckles white where they gripped the mahogany edge."How does Mika Turner keep getting this lucky?" he spat, pacing behind his chair. "Dad, you told me this was handled. So why did the payment still go through?"Harlan Turner sat on the leather sofa against the far wall, rubbing his weathered face with both hands. Deep creases framed his mouth, his brow furrowed as though the question physically pained him."I don't understand it either," Harlan muttered. "By all accounts, it shouldn't have happened. I spoke to the man last night. Everything was arranged.""Arranged how?" Roland demanded, dropping into the sofa across from his father."He was supposed to lure Mika to a hotel today. Get compromising photographs, send them to me." Harlan's voice was low, methodical, recounting a plan that had once seemed flawless. "Then
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"This is the last time." Mika killed the engine and shot Curry a cold sideways glance, her tone dripping with barely concealed disgust. "If there's ever a next time, nobody is going to help you."She didn't wait for an explanation. In her mind, there was nothing a gambling man could say that would make it better. The kind of man who threw money into pits deserved whatever crawled out to bite him.Curry read her expression and swallowed the words forming on his tongue. No matter how he framed the truth, she wouldn't believe him. He gave a small, resigned nod and let the silence settle between them like a wall.They had barely pulled into the parking space when a Mercedes-Benz rolled up from the opposite end of the lot, its chrome grille catching the midday sun. The license plate tugged at something in Curry's memory, a sequence he'd seen before, though he couldn't immediately place where.The car hadn't fully stopped before Celeste Vale stepped out from the passen
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Nobody hit Brock Tiernan. That was a rule as fundamental as gravity. You could cheat him at cards, owe him money a month too long, even talk behind his back if you were stupid enough, but you never raised a hand to him. Yet there stood Curry, looking as unbothered as a man who had swatted a fly off his sleeve, while Brock's cheeks burned crimson with the imprint of his open palm."You've got a death wish, kid!" one of Brock's men snarled, stepping forward. "You just hit Brock, and you think you're walking out of here?"The enforcers surged forward, a wall of tattoos and fury, but Brock whipped around before any of them could take another step."Shut your mouths." His voice cracked like a whip, freezing them where they stood. The rage that should have been directed outward had turned inward, pulling the bravado from his posture like air from a balloon. His face had gone the color of a bruised plum. When he spoke again, there was a tremor none of his men had ever heard
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Upstairs, Mika stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. She bit her lower lip hard enough to leave marks, her mind racing through every option she could think of and discarding them just as fast. Finally, with no other choice left, she pulled out her phone and dialed Callum's number.She hated it. Every fiber of her being recoiled at the thought of asking Callum Domingo for help. But she couldn't just stand here and watch Curry get himself killed.The phone rang once, twice, three times before going to voicemail. She tried again. Same result. A third attempt yielded nothing but that hollow, mechanical tone telling her no one was picking up.Mika stared at the screen for a long moment, then typed out a text message with trembling fingers, asking if he knew anyone connected to the Crimson Wyvern Group. She hit send and pressed the phone against her chest, her breath shallow and uneven.Down below, Buzz Sterling hauled Warrick
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The office reeked of stale cigar smoke and leather polish. Warrick Blackwood leaned back behind his mahogany desk, fingers laced across his stomach, appraising Mika Turner the way a buyer might size up merchandise at auction."So, Ms. Turner, what do you say?" He rubbed his palms together, the sound dry and deliberate. "Keep me happy tonight and seven hundred thousand dollars hits your company's account tomorrow morning. Everybody wins."Mika's teeth sank into her lower lip until she tasted iron, her nails biting into her palms. The fluorescent light hummed overhead, filling the silence she couldn't."Mr. Blackwood, please." Her voice came out barely above a whisper. "I'm married."He let out a contemptuous laugh through his nose. "Oh, I'm aware. You married a former inmate, didn't you? Your father's a fool, threw away a perfectly good daughter on a convict."Mika said nothing. Her jaw ached from clenching.Blackwood planted both hands on the desk and p
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At that same hour, inside the deputy manager's office at Pinnacle Corp, Harlan Turner picked up his phone and dialed a number he knew by heart. The line connected after two rings."It's me, Belmont." His voice was low and unhurried. "Someone's heading over to collect the debt. You know what to do."He listened to the brief confirmation on the other end, added, "Once it's handled, I'll make sure you're properly thanked," then ended the call and leaned back into the leather sofa, drawing a slow pull from his cigarette. Smoke curled toward the ceiling in a lazy ribbon.Across from him, Roland Turner sat forward with both hands braced on his knees. "Dad, how did it go?"Harlan exhaled through his nose and let a thin, poisonous smile settle onto his lips. "It's taken care of. Mika can talk herself blue in the face, she won't see a single cent of that outstanding payment." He tapped ash into the crystal tray on the armrest. "And when she comes back empty-handed, let's
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