Chapter 12 - The Hunt Begins
Julian read through the manila folder in his private study, his face turning the color of cold ash. The bank routing numbers, the satellite surveillance photos of Clara’s hospital room, the encrypted emails to the Barone family—on paper, it was a masterpiece of corporate treason. It was designed to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Elena Rostova was a highly paid operative who had seduced her way into his home to destroy his bloodline from the inside out.
He sat behind his desk for ten minutes, staring at the diamond earrings sitting in his open palm.
Then, he pushed the folder off the desk. It hit the floor with a dull thud, pages scattering across the Persian rug.
"Call Thomas," Julian commanded softly to the empty room.
Within two minutes, his lead driver and most trusted sentry stood before the desk, his head bowed respectfully. "You called for me, Boss?"
"Look at those papers on the floor, Thomas," Julian said, his voice unusually quiet, vibrating with a suppressed, volcanic fury. "Marcus presented them to me ten minutes ago. He claims Elena sold the school schedule and the electrical grid blueprints to the Barone family."
Thomas glanced down at the scattered papers, then looked back up at Julian without flinching. "Do you want me to assemble a recovery team to track her down, sir?"
"I want your honest assessment," Julian said, leaning forward, his stormy gray eyes locking onto his driver’s. "You were in that school alleyway when she shielded my children with her bare hands. You were in the ballroom last night when she threw herself over my son during a firefight. Does that look like the behavior of a Barone mercenary?"
Thomas didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. "No, sir. If she wanted you or those kids dead, she had half a dozen opportunities to let it happen without ever dirtying her own hands. That girl would have taken a bullet for your family yesterday."
A dark, terrifying smile curved Julian’s lips—a smile entirely devoid of warmth or mercy. "My thoughts exactly."
Julian stood up, walking to the window overlooking the rain-swept courtyard where Marcus was currently barking orders to the perimeter guards, playing the role of the vigilant, loyal underboss.
"The Barone family didn't have the technical capability to bypass our internal generator grid last night," Julian murmured, his mind working with the razor-sharp analytical precision that had made him the undisputed king of the city. "That required administrative security clearance. Someone inside this house has been leaking our movements for months, attempting to weaken my leadership so they can step into the vacuum when I fall."
"Marcus," Thomas breathed, his hand instinctively dropping toward his sidearm.
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"He cornered her," Julian said, the pieces of the puzzle snapping together with violent clarity. "He used her sister's medical condition as leverage to force her out of the state before she could speak to me, leaving this forged dossier behind to tie up loose ends and direct my anger toward a ghost."
Julian turned back to Thomas, his eyes blazing with a cold, blue-white fire. "Assemble our elite tactical unit. Do not use internal syndicate channels—use only the men who have been with my family since before my wife passed. We are not hunting for a traitor, Thomas. We are going to retrieve my governess. And then we are going to purge this house of every single rat hiding in the walls."
