"James," she whispered, her voice trembling, with tears already welling up in her eyes "You're scaring me." She said.
Suddenly the phone on James right hand buzzed. It was just a single text.
James stared at it for a long moment, his pulse quickening. There was no greeting, no threat, just one sentence
"Come alone if you want your daughter back."
And below it was an address.
He knew the number. He knew the tone. It was his brother, Elliot.
Florence's voice trembled behind him. "James, what is it?"
He turned the phone so she could see. Her face went pale. "You can't go there alone. Please, let's call the police…"
"I already did," he said sharply, grabbing his coat. "Not the local police the SWAT team. They'll be waiting for my signal."
"Then why go at all?" she pleaded.
"Because he wants to see me. He won't hurt Lila until I'm there." He paused at the door, voice low and heavy. "I'll bring her home."
When he got to the location, he hurriedly steps out of the car while hold onto a briefcase with documents inside of it. The basement was cold and damp, the air thick with the smell of rust, oil, and something sour like old metal that hadn't seen light in years. Pipes lined the ceiling, dripping occasionally, each drop echoing in the silence like a countdown.
James descended the narrow concrete steps slowly, his footsteps hollow against the floor. The walls were rough, streaked with grime, and the only light came from a single bulb hanging weakly in the center of the room.
He carried the briefcase close the fake documents inside shifting with every step and kept his other hand raised to show he wasn't armed.
From the far corner, a voice drifted through the shadows.
"So you actually came." He said.
Elliot stepped forward, his figure emerging from the dim light older, harder, the bitterness in his eyes burning like coals. "You never could resist playing the hero, could you?"
James stopped a few feet away. "Where is she?"
Elliot smirked, pacing slowly around him. "Safe. For now. You'll see her once I have the company transfer papers."
He gestured to the briefcase. "That's them, isn't it? My future… everything you stole."
James clenched his jaw. "Elliot, you're making a mistake. This isn't the way to fix what happened between us."
Elliot barked a laugh, sharp and hollow. "Fix it? You sent me to rot in prison, James! Ten years of my life gone because you wanted to play the righteous man!"
"I did what I had to do," James shot back. "You were laundering money through the company you almost destroyed it."
"Because you took it from me first!" Elliot's voice cracked, fury and pain spilling over. "It was supposed to be ours, not yours alone!"
He raised his gun trembling, but deadly. "Now hand it over before I change my mind."
James stayed still, calm but calculating. "You really think this will end the way you want?"
Elliot sneered. "It already has."
But just then, a faint sound echoed above boots. Quiet, synchronized, deliberate.
Elliot's brow furrowed. "What was that?"
Before James could answer, a sharp command shattered the silence.
"SWAT! DROP YOUR WEAPON!"
The basement exploded into chaos floodlights, shouts, the thunder of feet on concrete. Armed officers swarmed through the entrance, their lasers cutting through the dark.
Elliot spun toward the noise, eyes wide. "You called them?"
James didn't move. "I told you, Elliot. I wasn't coming here alone."
Elliot tried to run, but the officers were faster. Within seconds, he was forced to the ground, his gun kicked away, his wrists cuffed tight.
"Basement secure!" someone yelled.
James rushed past the officers toward a smaller room beyond the pipes and there, tied to a chair, was Lila, her face pale and streaked with tears.
"Dad!" she gasped.
He dropped the briefcase, running to her, pulling her into his arms. "It's okay, sweetheart. You're safe now."
Outside, the muffled sounds of Elliot's rage echoed up the stairwell as he was dragged away. "You'll regret this, James! You hear me? You'll regret it!"
James didn't answer. He just held Lila tighter, breathing in the proof that she was alive the only thing that mattered anymore.
However, Aiden was already in his way to go pay Nolan another surprise visit.
The black car glided through the city like a shadow, its tinted windows hiding the storm brewing inside. Aiden sat in silence, fingers tapping lightly against his knee, his gaze fixed out the window. Kent sat beside him, tablet in hand, stealing occasional glances at his boss.
"You're really doing this?" Kent asked quietly.
Aiden didn't look at him. "It's business, Kent. Everything is."
Within minutes, they arrived at the sleek, glass-walled building of Nolan Enterprises. The marble floors gleamed as Aiden stepped out, his tailored suit commanding quiet respect from everyone who passed.
At the reception, Nolan's assistant, Emily, nearly dropped her pen when she saw who had just walked in.
"Mr. Aiden," she stammered, standing quickly. "Good afternoon, sir."
Aiden gave her a faint, polite smile. "Good afternoon, Emily. I'd like to see your boss."
Her eyes widened slightly nobody ever requested to see Mr. Nolan without notice. "Of course, sir. I'll inform him right away."
Meanwhile, in his office upstairs, Mr. Nolan sat hunched over a stack of paperwork, his pen gliding quickly across a contract. The faint hum of the city filled the air until Emily knocked softly and stepped in.
"Sir," she said carefully, "Mr. Aiden is here to see you."
Nolan froze mid-signature. He looked up slowly, confusion flickering across his face. "Aiden?"
"Yes, sir. He says it's urgent."
For a moment, Nolan said nothing. Deep down, something in his gut tightened. Aiden's visit was too sudden. Too deliberate. He hadn't expected him and that was never a good sign.
Finally, Nolan nodded. "Let him in."
Emily opened the door, and Aiden walked in, followed by Kent. The atmosphere shifted immediately sharp, tense, almost electric.
"Aiden," Nolan greeted with a forced smile, standing to shake his hand. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"
Aiden's expression was unreadable. "A conversation. About our deal."
Nolan gestured toward the chairs across his desk. "Please, sit."
They exchanged polite nods as they sat down. For a few seconds, silence filled the room heavy and expectant. Then Aiden spoke.
"I've decided to call off the deal."
The words landed like a thunderclap. Nolan's smile faded instantly. "Call it off? Why?" He asked desperately.
Aiden leaned back, his gaze calm, almost cold. "Because I realized something. If you truly want this contract, you'll have to earn it."
Nolan frowned. "Earn it? How? We've already met every demand…"
Aiden cut him off smoothly. "Not this one."
Nolan's heartbeat quickened. "Then what exactly do you want, Aiden?"
Aiden's lips curved into a faint smile one that didn't reach his eyes. "I want your daughter."
The room fell silent. Even Kent glanced up sharply.
Nolan's voice dropped. "My… daughter?"
"Yes," Aiden said calmly. "Azalea. After she finishes her modeling career in New York, I want her to become my wife."
Nolan stared at him, speechless. For a long, suffocating moment, the only sound in the room was the low hum of the air conditioner and the faint ticking of the gold clock on the wall. The air itself seemed to thicken, pressing down on him like invisible hands. He searched Aiden's face, hoping desperately that this was a joke, a cruel test, anything but what it truly was.
But Aiden's expression didn't waver. His eyes cold, he did not blink but instead it held the kind of certainty that could make even the strongest man doubt himself. He meant every word.
Nolan's throat felt dry. "Aiden," he managed finally, his voice low and trembling with restrained fury. "You can't be serious."
Aiden didn't answer right away. Instead, he rose slowly from his chair, every movement deliberate, measured. He adjusted his cufflinks, buttoned his jacket, and stepped closer to the desk. The scent of his cologne sharp and dark, like smoke and rain filled the space between them.
"Oh, I'm very serious, Mr. Nolan." His tone was smooth, almost gentle, but the threat underneath it was unmistakable. "Three years. That's all I ask. After that…" He paused, his gaze flicking toward the framed photo on Nolan's desk Azalea smiling under the New York skyline. Aiden's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "…she'll belong to me."
Nolan's hands clenched against the edge of the desk. "You're out of your mind," he hissed, his composure beginning to crack. "She's my daughter she's not some… bargaining chip!"
Aiden tilted his head slightly, as though amused by Nolan's outrage. "Everything has a price, Mr. Nolan. Even purity. Even family."
The words hit like ice water. Nolan's chest tightened; he felt the sting of humiliation and fury clawing up his throat. He wanted to shout, to throw Aiden out of his office, to tear up every contract binding them together but he couldn't. Because beneath the anger was fear. Aiden had power, influence, and information that could destroy everything Nolan had built.
Aiden stepped back, his gaze never leaving Nolan's face. "Think about it," he said quietly, almost kindly. "The contract… or your pride. You can't have both."