The Shadow Billionaires

CHAPTER 3: THE INTRUDER — PART 1

The flash of lightning had barely faded when Celeste lunged for the fallen pistol.

Her pulse hammered loud enough to drown out the storm.

The silhouette she’d seen in the glass couldn’t have disappeared, there was nowhere to go in the penthouse but up or down, and she owned both directions.

“Security!” she hissed into the intercom.

No response, a flicker of movement, down the hall, past the art wall. Bare feet on marble.

She sprinted, gun up, breath ragged.

The hallway lights shivered as if the storm outside was inside now, following her. Another crash, the sound of glass breaking somewhere deeper in the apartment.

Celeste rounded the corner and saw the open balcony door, curtains whipping in the wind. The intruder hadn’t fled; he’d stumbled. A trail of dark drops dotted the floor. Blood.

She edged forward. “Who’s there?” No answer.

Her reflection flashed in the glass, eyes sharp, hair disheveled, gun steady. She hated that she looked scared.

Then, movement. A shadow crouched by the edge of the room, near the liquor cabinet.

“Show yourself,” she said.

A figure half-rose, trembling. His voice cracked. “Don’t shoot, please!”

Her breath caught. “Daniel?”

Her assistant, The same man who’d texted her that photo earlier, His white shirt was torn and streaked with red near the shoulder.

“Put the gun down,” he whispered. “They’re watching.”

She didn’t lower it. “You broke into my home.”

“I didn’t, I had to warn you.” He winced, leaning against the wall. “They killed the tech from Records. Said he opened the wrong file.”

“What are you talking about? Who killed him?”

“Your father’s people. The ones still on payroll.”

“That’s impossible. I’ve vetted everyone”

He shook his head, eyes wild. “No, you haven’t. He built failsafes into every division. Contracts, shell accounts, fake employees. They’re still running operations under the old names.”

Celeste stepped closer, the wind whipping her hair. “Daniel, look at me. Who sent you here?”

He hesitated. Lightning painted his face white for a heartbeat, and she saw the fear beneath the blood. “Someone who used to protect him. Calls himself The Broker.”

She frowned. “I’ve never heard that name.”

“You will.” He pressed a small data drive into her hand. “This, this is everything. Proof of what he did. But they know you opened the archive. They’re coming.”

“Who’s they?”

Daniel’s mouth opened, but a single gunshot cracked the air.

He jerked, eyes going wide. The window behind him exploded outward. Celeste screamed, ducking as shards rained down. Daniel collapsed, blood spreading across the marble.

She crawled toward him, glass slicing her palms. “Daniel! Stay with me!”

He tried to speak. The words came out broken.

“Trust… no one… Ford”

Then nothing, the rain gusted in through the shattered pane, carrying the city’s noise and a faint echo, a door closing somewhere inside.

Celeste spun around, weapon shaking in her grip. The apartment was empty, only the data drive in her hand pulsed faintly with a red light, blinking once, twice, then going dark.

She stared at it, chest rising and falling too fast. Outside, sirens wailed, climbing the building.

Her reflection in the cracked glass looked like a stranger. The sirens drew closer, police, fire, or maybe corporate security,  Celeste didn’t wait to find out.

She pressed her palm to Daniel’s neck. No pulse. Her breath hitched; the marble felt cold beneath her knees.

Her mind snapped into control, the same instinct that built an empire out of chaos, Move, Clean up. Lock down.

She staggered to her feet, shoved the gun into a drawer, and hit the security console by the door. The system blinked red.

NETWORK COMPROMISED, EXTERNAL ACCESS DETECTED.

She cursed under her breath. “No, no, no…”

Someone was already inside her network, watching the cameras, maybe even her voice feed. She ripped the console’s power cord and crossed to the study, clutching the data drive like it was alive.

The penthouse lights flickered again. A faint hum came from somewhere above the ceiling, the sound of surveillance drones shifting position.

She grabbed her laptop, sat at the massive glass desk, and plugged the drive in. Screen on. Static, then a black field.

Then, ENTER ACCESS KEY.

Celeste typed her master override. The system rejected it.

A second line appeared. AUTHORIZED TO “D.F.” ONLY.

She froze, Dickson Ford.

Her fingers hovered over the keys. Of all the people in her life, he was the last she wanted connected to this. He’d been gone barely twelve hours, yet his shadow still moved through the building like a ghost.

She tried again, bypassing the encryption manually. Code rolled down the screen, old security syntax from her father’s private projects. This wasn’t just data, this was his handprint, his legacy, and somehow Dickson’s initials were burned into it.

“What the hell were you doing in my father’s archives, Ford” she whispered.

The drive pulsed once, faintly red again. Then it started to open.

A list of files appeared, hundreds, maybe thousands. Names, code phrases, transaction trails leading to shell companies. Some she recognized as subsidiaries under Vonn Enterprises.

Others she didn’t, offshore accounts, military contractors, something called Project GENEVA, and at the bottom, Operation VOW.

Status, ACTIVE.

Her stomach dropped. Footsteps echoed in the hallway, She spun, gun up again. “Who’s there?”

The penthouse door had been sealed. No one should be inside. Yet she heard it clearly, a measured tread, unhurried, confident.

The office door creaked open. It wasn’t a stranger.

“Miss Vonn,” said the man in the dark suit. He wore a security badge, but not from her team. “I’m with the internal compliance division. You called for assistance?”

Celeste didn’t lower the weapon. “I called no one.”

The man smiled. “That’s funny. Because your building’s panic line just activated. Someone must’ve tripped it.”

He stepped further in. His eyes scanned the room, the shattered glass, the body down the hall. “Looks like you’ve had a busy night.”

“Step away from the desk,” she said.

“Of course.” His tone stayed polite. Too polite. “Just need to make sure you’re all right.”

His hand twitched near his jacket pocket, Celeste fired.