MAFIA BOSS NOTICES HIS TERRIFIED MAID SECRETLY HIDING BRUISES, WHAT HE DID NEXT SHOCKED THE ENTIRE CITY

The investigation into the Michigan Avenue ambush moved with terrifying speed. By midnight, Marcus’s forensic team had traced the vehicle identification numbers of the dump truck and the abandoned extraction van to an abandoned shipping warehouse near the Calumet River.

Inside the private interrogation room in the sub-basement of the Reyes estate, the captured mercenary leader sat strapped to a steel chair under a single bare bulb. His tactical gear had been stripped, and his face was bruised from Marcus’s initial questioning.

Damian stood in the dark corner of the room, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt with methodical precision. Elena stood beside Marcus behind the one-way observation glass, watching the proceedings on a high-definition audio monitor.

"You have five seconds to give me a name," Damian said, stepping into the light of the bulb. He held no weapons, no instruments of torture. His bare hands and the deadly stillness in his eyes were more terrifying than any blade.

The mercenary spat blood onto the concrete floor. "I don't know names. We were hired through an encrypted broker in Zurich. Half up front, half upon delivery of the woman."

"How did your team know her exact route?" Damian asked softly, taking one slow step forward. "Her schedule was modified this morning at nine o'clock. The route down Michigan Avenue was known to only four people inside my personal security network."

The mercenary sneered. "Then your leak is inside your own house, Mr. Reyes. Someone sold her out for a fraction of what your empire is worth."

Behind the glass, Elena felt a cold dread settle in her chest. An internal leak. Someone who walked the halls of the estate, someone who smiled at them over breakfast, had given the coordinates to death squads.

Damian didn't ask another question. He stepped closer, leaning down until his lips brushed the mercenary's ear. "Marcus will show you the exit. But your broker will be dead before breakfast."

Damian walked out of the interrogation room, the heavy steel door clicking shut behind him. He stepped into the observation booth, his eyes meeting Elena's troubled gaze.

"Marcus," Damian commanded, his voice devoid of all warmth. "Pull the communications logs of every staff member, every security contractor, and every logistics manager for the past forty-eight hours. Cross-reference them with offshore bank transactions."

"Already running, Boss," Marcus said, tapping his tablet. "We isolated an encrypted outgoing transmission sent at 9:15 AM from an IP address routed through our internal guest network."

"Who owns the terminal?" Elena asked, dread making her pulse spike.

Marcus looked up from his screen, his jaw tight. "The terminal was logged in under the guest wing credentials. Room 14B."

Elena gasped. "Room 14B? That's... that's where Julian Beaumont has been staying since we negotiated his immunity deal last week!"

Ten minutes later, the heavy oak door of Room 14B on the estate's second floor was kicked off its hinges with a splintering crash.

Julian Beaumont, twenty-four, sat on the edge of his unmade bed, clutching a leather duffel bag packed with cash and foreign passports. When he saw Damian Reyes walk into the room, flanked by Marcus and Elena, the young man dropped the bag, his knees hitting the floor in sheer, helpless terror.

"Damian! Please, wait! It’s not what you think!" Julian shrieked, backing away on his hands and knees until his spine hit the wall.

"You gave them Elena's route," Damian stated, his tone flat, horrifyingly calm. He walked over to the desk, picking up the burner laptop with a gloved hand. "You sold her coordinates to an international extraction syndicate to clear your debts in Zurich."

"My father made me do it!" Julian sobbed, tears and snot running down his face. "Arthur found out I lost the fuel subsidies. He said if I didn't help him kidnap Elena to force you into surrendering the shipping terminals, he would disown me and leave me to the Russian cartels! I didn't want them to hurt her! They were just supposed to hold her for leverage!"

"You tried to deliver my wife into the hands of butchers," Damian whispered, standing over the trembling boy.

Elena stepped forward, looking down at Julian. There was no hatred in her eyes—only profound pity and disgust. "You had every resource, every privilege, and every advantage in this world, Julian. And yet, you chose cowardice."

Julian looked up at Elena, begging desperately. "Elena, please! You know what it’s like to be trapped! You know what it’s like when powerful men threaten your life! Tell him to let me go! I’ll leave the country forever!"

Elena looked at Damian, whose hand was resting on the grip of his sidearm. She reached out and gently rested her hand on his wrist, stopping him.

"Death is too quick for a coward, Damian," Elena said quietly, her voice carrying an unshakable moral authority. "And we are not murderers in our own home."

Damian looked at his wife, the fire in his eyes slowly yielding to her calm strength. "What do you want to do with him?"

"Turn him over to the Federal Bureau of Investigation alongside all the evidence of the Beaumont family's maritime smuggling rings," Elena decided, her chin held high. "Let Arthur Beaumont watch his empire collapse through the glass of a federal courtroom, knowing his own son was the one who destroyed him."