Chapter 5
Julian Kane didn't flinch. He let out a dry, condescending chuckle that echoed hollowly off the book-lined walls.
"Adrian, you’ve lost your mind," Julian said smoothly, stepping into the study and closing the heavy mahogany door behind him. "You’ve spent three years marinading in grief and scotch, and now a scheming servant walks in with a stolen piece of jewelry and a sob story, and you're ready to accuse your own brother of murder?"
Dr. Mercer, a frail man in his sixties with silver-rimmed spectacles, set his aluminum case onto the antique desk. His hands were visibly shaking.
"Hold her hand, Maya," Adrian said, ignoring Julian entirely.
I pulled Nora into my lap. She squirmed a little, but when Adrian placed his large, warm hand over hers, she calmed down immediately. Dr. Mercer used a sterile lancet to prick Nora’s tiny index finger, collecting a drop of blood onto a micro-fluidic cartridge. Then he turned to Adrian, who offered his own forearm without a word, watching the needle draw dark red blood with the detachment of a soldier.
"The automated analyzer will sequence twenty-four core STR markers," Dr. Mercer murmured, his voice tight. He inserted the cartridge into a portable centrifuge machine. "Eighteen minutes for initial markers. Ninety-nine percent certainty."
The machine began to hum with a low, rhythmic whine.
The silence in the room grew suffocating. Adrian stood tall, arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes never leaving Julian. Julian stood near the door, his phone clutched in his hand, fingers rapidly tapping against the glass screen.
"Who are you texting, Julian?" Adrian asked, his tone dangerously conversational.
"The board," Julian replied without looking up. "The French delegation has already arrived. Henri Laurent wants to know why the Kane family chairman isn't in the receiving line to sign the merger agreement. They control forty percent of our logistics network, Adrian. If this deal falls through tonight because of your delusions, Kane Global loses two billion dollars before market open tomorrow."
"Let it burn," Adrian said flatly.
Julian snapped his head up, his veneer of aristocratic polish finally cracking. "Let it burn? Our father built this empire with his bare hands! Evelyn made a tragic driving mistake on an icy bridge! She panicked, she wrecked, and she died! And instead of accepting reality, you want to burn down the entire family legacy for a fantasy!"
"My wife was a championship rally driver before I married her," Adrian spat, stepping forward, his jaw tight. "She didn't panic on an icy bridge. And she didn't leave this estate on Tuesday night because she wanted a scenic drive. She was running from someone."
Adrian turned his gaze toward me. "Maya. Did Evelyn say who tampered with her car?"
I tightened my arms around Nora. "She didn't give a name. But she told me... she said, *'The man who ordered it has a silver signet ring with an owl.'*"
Julian’s thumb froze on his phone screen.
The room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Every Kane man received a family signet ring on his twenty-first birthday. Adrian wore the Kane crest—a roaring lion.
Julian Kane was wearing an antique silver band on his right pinky.
Carved into the face of that silver band was a horned owl.
Adrian looked down at Julian’s hand. The realization hit him like a physical blow, his eyes widening in pure, homicidal clarity.
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
The centrifuge chimed. Dr. Mercer stared down at the small digital screen on the analyzer, his face draining of all color. He adjusted his glasses, looked at the printout, and swallowed hard.
"Well?" Julian snapped, his voice suddenly sharp, brittle. "Tell him, Mercer. Tell him it's a mismatch."
Dr. Mercer looked up, his voice trembling so violently he could barely form the words.
"Paternity probability is... 99.98%," Mercer whispered. "She is Adrian’s biological daughter. Without question."
Adrian closed his eyes for a split second, a shudder running through his massive frame. When he opened them, the darkness inside was absolute.
"Julian," Adrian said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, quiet gravel. "You have five seconds to explain why my wife saw your ring before she died."
Julian didn't answer.
Instead, he reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a small black two-way radio, and pressed the button.
"Lock down the third floor," Julian said into the mic. "Code Red. Take the child."
May you like
Before the radio clicks could fade, the heavy oak doors of the study burst open, and three armed private security guards in black tactical gear flooded into the room, assault rifles raised.
***
