CHAPTER 4: THE MAN WHO STOLE A KINGDOM
CHAPTER 4: THE MAN WHO STOLE A KINGDOM
Three nights later, Gabriel returned with devastating news.
The security footage had identified the person who delivered the threat.
A retired courier.
The man was found dead less than six hours later.
Execution-style.
One bullet.
No witnesses.
No evidence.
Professional.
Someone was cleaning up.
Fast.
Too fast.
Sebastian sat in his private study, staring into the fireplace.
Across from him sat Clare.
"You think your uncle knows?"
Sebastian laughed bitterly.
"I think my uncle knows everything."
For twenty years Vincent Lombardi had operated in the shadows.
Officially, Sebastian was the boss.
Unofficially?
Vincent controlled the finances.
The political connections.
The international partnerships.
The empire.
And now Sebastian wondered whether he had merely been a symbol.
A king confined to a throne while someone else ruled behind the curtain.
At dawn, Gabriel burst into the room.
"Boss."
Sebastian looked up.
"What?"
Gabriel tossed a folder onto the desk.
"Financial records."
Sebastian opened it.
His expression darkened with every page.
Millions of dollars.
Secret accounts.
Hidden transfers.
Fake companies.
All connected to Vincent.
All siphoned from syndicate funds.
For twenty years.
The betrayal was staggering.
Then came the final page.
Sebastian froze.
A medical document.
Original surgical records.
Records that had supposedly been destroyed.
Clare grabbed the file.
Her eyes widened.
The report clearly stated that Sebastian's spinal cord had not been completely severed.
There had been significant damage.
But recovery had been possible.
With treatment.
With rehabilitation.
With time.
The paralysis should never have been permanent.
Silence filled the room.
Then Sebastian slowly closed the folder.
His hands were shaking.
Not from weakness.
From fury.
Twenty years.
Twenty years stolen.
Twenty years of lies.
Twenty years trapped in a wheelchair because someone wanted power.
Gabriel stepped forward.
"What are your orders?"
The room felt colder.
Darker.
Sebastian looked toward the window where the first light of morning was appearing.
Then he stood.
Not completely.
Not yet.
But for the first time in two decades, his legs pushed against the floor.
Supporting part of his weight.
Clare gasped.
Gabriel stared in shock.
Sebastian remained upright for three seconds.
Then five.
Then ten.
His eyes filled with something neither of them had ever seen before.
Hope.
And vengeance.
Pure vengeance.
"Prepare the cars," he said.
Gabriel smiled grimly.
"Where are we going?"
Sebastian's gaze hardened.
"To visit my uncle."
Across Chicago, unaware of the storm approaching him, Vincent Lombardi sat in his penthouse office.
A glass of expensive whiskey rested in his hand.
His phone rang.
One of his security captains.
The man's voice was trembling.
"Sir..."
"What is it?"
"We lost contact with three teams."
Vincent frowned.
"What teams?"
"The teams watching Clare Bennett."
For the first time in twenty years...
Vincent Lombardi felt afraid.
Because he knew exactly what that meant.
May you like
Sebastian had discovered the truth.
And the king was finally getting out of his chair.
