Chapter 7 - The Safe House
By two in the afternoon, the armored SUV was parked deep inside a private, subterranean garage beneath a high-security residential tower in Tribeca.
The penthouse belonged to Adrian's personal estate—a fortress equipped with reinforced steel doors, private medical facilities, and encrypted satellite communications that didn't exist on public records.
A private doctor had just finished restitching Adrian's ruptured side incision in the master bedroom while Marco stood guard at the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the misty Hudson River.
Evangeline sat on a plush velvet sofa in the main living room, wearing a simple white cashmere sweater and dark trousers. Her clean, golden-brown hair fell softly over her shoulders. She was staring down at a hot mug of tea held in her hands, her reflection clear in the glass table.
Adrian stepped out of the bedroom, wearing a loose black shirt over his fresh bandages. He sat down in the armchair across from her.
"Richard is alive," Adrian informed her softly. "My men handed him over to a private medical team under armed guard. He won't be contacting Victor Vance anytime soon."
Evangeline took a small sip of her tea, her gaze fixed on the river outside. "Victor won't stop, Adrian. He has spent ten years consolidating the Vance maritime contracts. He has politicians in his pocket. He has judges on his payroll. The moment he realizes I'm alive, he will burn half of Manhattan to make sure I don't reach a courtroom."
"Let him try," Adrian said calmly.
She looked up at him, her ice-blue eyes searching his face. "Why are you doing this, Adrian? Ten years ago, you were just a street kid my father gave a job to. You don't owe the Vance family anything anymore. You have your own empire now."
Adrian reached into his pocket and pulled out a tarnished silver signet ring—the Vance family crest, depicting a dragon wrapped around an anchor. He set it gently on the glass table between them.
"I was nineteen when I got ambushed by a rival crew in Brooklyn," Adrian said quietly. "I was bleeding out in a rain barrel. Your father, Julian, found me. He didn't call the police, and he didn't call a cleaner. He put me in his own car, took me to his estate, had his private doctor fix me up, and gave me ten thousand dollars to start fresh."
Adrian looked straight into her eyes. "Your father told me that real power isn't about how many men you can kill, Evangeline. It's about how many people you can protect when the world turns dark. I spent ten years building this empire so that if I ever found his daughter, no one in this city could ever hurt her again."
Evangeline stared at the signet ring on the glass table, tears swimming in her eyes. She slowly reached out and picked it up, pressing the cold metal against her lips.
"We can't just fight Victor in the streets, Adrian," she whispered, her voice tightening with newfound resolve. "We have to destroy him where he feels safest."
"Where is that?" Adrian asked.
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"The Vance Annual Maritime Gala," she said, looking up at him with a cold, brilliant smile. "Tomorrow night at the Plaza Hotel. Every board member, every politician, and every shareholder will be in that ballroom when Victor signs the final probate papers to absorb my father's entire estate forever."
Adrian's lips curved into a dark, ruthless smile. "Then we're going to a party."
