Chapter 25:
147 words
Across town, crystal shattered against mahogany.
Julian Blackwood swept his entire desk clear. Industry awards, tablets, a $2,000 bottle of Scotch—all crashed to the floor in a jagged, wet heap.
“They survived,” his head of security muttered, standing by the door, afraid to step on the glass.
Julian loosened his Italian silk tie, gasping for air. The fabric felt like a noose. He stared at his reflection in the night-blackened window—his face was pale, sweat beading on his forehead.
He had always treated people like assets or liabilities. Liabilities were liquidated. But this...
“Money fixes lawsuits,” Julian hissed, his voice cracking as he grabbed the edge of the desk, knuckles white. “It doesn’t fix attempted homicide.”
He looked down at his hands. They were shaking. For the first time in his life, the check he needed to write was one he couldn’t afford.
End of Chapter 25
