Chapter 2 - The Arrival of the King
When I pushed through the exit doors into the ground-floor service lobby, the emergency backup lights flickered to life, casting everything in a dim, apocalyptic red.
Standing in the center of the room was my father, Alexander Hayes.
He wasn't a man who needed gold-leaf fixtures or five-hundred-person banquets to prove his worth. He built his empire in the shadows, dealing in global debt, acquisitions, and silent takeovers. He was wearing a tailored charcoal overcoat, his silver hair immaculate, his posture radiating lethal authority. Flanking him were six men in tactical suits—his private security detail—and his lead attorney, Marcus.
My father took one look at my face.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. His jaw clenched, a muscle feathering in his cheek, but his voice remained deadly soft.
"Clara."
I walked into his arms, finally letting a single, ragged breath escape my lungs. He held me tightly, one hand gently cradling the back of my head.
"I'm sorry, Dad," I whispered. "You warned me about them."
"You have nothing to apologize for," he said, stepping back and brushing a tear from my uninjured cheek. He looked at the angry, red handprint branding my skin. The restraint it took for him not to immediately dismantle the building with his bare hands was palpable. "Marcus?"
The attorney stepped forward, handing my father a thick leather portfolio.
"The grid to the ballroom is entirely under our control," Marcus said flatly. "The title transfer was finalized three minutes ago. The Sterling Plaza is now a subsidiary of Hayes Global."
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My father nodded, his eyes locked onto the service elevators.
"Bring them down," he ordered his men. "All of them. It is time Victor and Julian learned what it means to be evicted."
