Victor Hale hit the marble steps harder than he expected. Pain flashed sharp and fast, stealing the air from his lungs like a punch

The morning sun filtered through the high windows of the Hale Enterprises executive floor. Julian Hale sat behind Victor’s massive mahogany desk, swirling a glass of single-malt scotch despite it being barely nine in the morning. A confident, victorious smile played across his lips as he looked at the board members gathered in the glass-walled conference room.

“As you all know,” Julian announced, adopting a solemn, sorrowful expression, “my brother Victor suffered a horrific fall yesterday. The medical report from St. Jude’s indicates severe traumatic brain injury. He remains entirely unresponsive.”

A murmur of distress rippled through the older board members.

“This is devastating news, Julian,” spoke up Arthur Vance, the senior board member and a long-time ally of Victor’s late father. “Victor was leading the acquisition of the Apex Group. Without him, the stock will plunge by afternoon.”

“Which is why,” Julian interrupted seamlessly, sliding a thick stack of legal documents across the glossy table, “we must execute the emergency contingency protocol. As Victor’s biological brother and legal next-of-kin, I am stepping in as interim CEO. These documents grant me temporary voting control of his shares until… well, until a permanent prognosis is determined.”

Arthur Vance adjusted his glasses, looking suspiciously at the paperwork. “Victor never signed an automatic transfer of proxy to you, Julian. His trust explicitely names a neutral legal board in the event of incapacitation.”

“Victor was paranoid, Arthur,” Julian replied smoothly, leaning forward. “He signed this power of attorney draft last month in private. I have his signature right here, notarized.”

What Julian didn't know was that three rooms away, sitting in an unmarked van parked in the underground garage, Victor Hale was listening to every single word through an encrypted bug hidden inside the desk lamp—a bug he had activated via his smartphone just an hour ago.

Victor wore a pair of dark sunglasses, a charcoal-grey hoodie covering his bandage, and a pair of tailored slacks. Sitting beside him in the van was Marcus Vance, Arthur Vance’s son and Victor’s most trusted private security investigator.

“The bastard actually forged your signature on the proxy transfer,” Marcus whispered, watching the audio waves dance on his laptop screen. “He’s moving faster than we anticipated.”

“Let him run,” Victor said, his voice low, cold, and razor-sharp. “The further out on the ledge he steps, the higher the drop. Did you clear the bank accounts?”

“Yes,” Marcus replied with a grin. “As soon as you gave the order from the hospital room, we transferred all primary operating liquid funds into an escrow account under the twins’ trust name. Julian thinks he’s gaining control of a sixty-billion-dollar empire, but right now, he’s holding the keys to an empty vault.”

“What about Amelia and the kids?” Victor asked, his voice softening noticeably at her name.

“They’re safe at your private coastal estate in Monterey,” Marcus assured him. “My team moved them out of the main mansion at four this morning under the guise of an ‘extended family retreat.’ Julian has no idea where they are.”

Victor nodded, his mind drifting back to the sensation of Amelia’s hand in his, her desperate confession ringing in his ears: I think I’ve fallen in love with you, too.

“He threatened her, Marcus,” Victor murmured, staring out the darkened window of the van. “He threatened to use Child Protective Services to steal my children away from the only mother they’ve ever known.”

“So how do you want to break him?” Marcus asked.

Victor turned to Marcus, a cold, ruthless smile spreading across his face—the look that had made him the most feared corporate titan on Wall Street.

“I’m not just going to break him commercially,” Victor said quietly. “I’m going to let him dig his own grave in front of the entire world. Set up the board meeting for Friday afternoon. Tell him the shareholders demand a formal vote on his temporary leadership. Let him invite the press.”