Chapter 9 - The Final Move
The underground parking garage beneath Vance Tower was a concrete cavern of echoing silence.
The Maybach pulled into a private, gated bay marked with a single brass plaque: CEO RESERVED.
As Marcus killed the engine, the reinforced steel security doors at the far end of the garage began to rise slowly, revealing a sleek black Mercedes sedan idling in the shadows. Standing beside the Mercedes, flanked by two armed bodyguards, was Viktor Rossi himself—older than his reputation suggested, wearing an expensive tailored overcoat with silver hair slicked straight back, looking like a retired statesman who happened to run a syndicate of extortion and murder.
Julian opened his door and stepped out into the concrete garage. Adeline followed a second behind him, refusing to cower, her chin held high despite the terror clawing at her stomach.
"Julian," Rossi called out, his voice gravelly and smooth, echoing off the concrete pillars. "I was wondering when you'd decide to answer my calls."
"You broke into my building, Viktor," Julian said as he walked forward, stopping ten feet away from the mob boss. "You sent armed men to harass an innocent employee in my loading dock. That isn't business. That's a declaration of war."
Rossi chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Business, pleasure—it's all real estate in the end, Julian. And Suite 1912 belongs to my associates. Whatever papers your cleaning lady picked up from that floor... I want them back. Right now."
Julian didn't blink. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out the manila folder Eleanor had given Adeline earlier that night, and held it out in front of him.
"You want the evidence?" Julian asked softly. "Here it is."
Rossi’s eyes locked onto the folder. He took a step forward, signaling his bodyguard to retrieve it.
"Wait," Adeline stepped out from behind Julian, her voice ringing clear and steady through the silent garage.
Rossi stopped, his gaze shifting to her with mild curiosity. "Ah, the cleaning lady. You have a lot of nerve showing up here, little girl."
"I didn't take your precious papers," Adeline said, stepping right up to the edge of Julian’s shoulder. "I didn't read them, I didn't copy them, and I don't care about your waterfront properties. But you threatened my life. You sent five men to trap me in an alley like an animal."
Rossi smiled coldly. "And what are you going to do about it? Sue me?"
"No," Julian answered for her.
Before Rossi could react, Julian lowered the manila folder—and tossed it onto the concrete floor between them. As the folder hit the ground, the papers spilled out, revealing not financial records, but a thick stack of federal grand jury indictments, wiretap transcripts, and bank routing numbers stamped with the Department of Justice seal.
Rossi’s face drained of color in a fraction of a second. He looked down at the papers, then back up at Julian.
"You didn't bring me evidence," Rossi whispered, horror dawning in his eyes. "You brought a federal trap."
"I didn't need to steal your files from Suite 1912, Viktor," Julian said, his voice dropping into a register of terrifying calm. "My legal team downloaded your entire server three weeks ago. Tonight was never about the papers."
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From the shadows around the parking garage, the heavy concrete pillars suddenly came alive. Dozens of federal agents in tactical gear, weapons drawn and secured, stepped out from behind the parked vehicles, blocking every exit.
"It was always about the headcount," Julian finished.
