Chapter 22 - The Ghost of Diane Vance
Daniel pressed his back flat against the wall beside the bedroom door, gripping the pry bar in two hands. His heart slammed against his ribs like a sledgehammer, yet his senses were hyper-focused.
The man in the hallway was not an anomaly; he was an answer to a puzzle Daniel hadn’t known he was assembling.
Years ago, during the brief, deceptive courtship before Daniel married Vanessa, Diane Vance had spoken once—only once—of her eldest child. She had dismissed him as a tragedy, a boy named Julian who had vanished into the private military contracting underworld after three dishonorable tours in the Middle East. Diane had worn black that day, pretending to mourn a son lost to violence.
It had all been a calculated lie.
Julian had never been lost. He was Diane Vance’s personal enforcer, the shadow she kept off the family books, funded by the illicit bank accounts Emily had spent her final months investigating. While Vanessa played the role of the refined, victimized socialite and Diane pulled the political levers, Julian was the blunt instrument who silenced loose ends in the dark.
"I know you're awake, Danny-boy," Julian’s voice drifted closer. It was right outside Mason's door now. "My mother sits in a concrete cell tonight because you couldn't take a little discipline. Because you wouldn't sign over Emily's trust."
The doorknob turned.
Daniel didn't wait. He didn't allow the intruder to set the terms of engagement.
As the door swung inward by an inch, Daniel kicked it with all the force in his body. The solid oak door slammed violently into Julian's face.
A sharp curse exploded in the hallway, accompanied by the wet crunch of cartilage. Julian stumbled backward, dropping a few links of the heavy iron chain.
Daniel surged forward into the corridor, swinging the steel pry bar with blinding fury. The bar caught Julian across the left shoulder, tearing through the faded fabric of his military jacket. But Julian was twice the size of a normal man, conditioned by years of combat and street brawls.
Instead of falling, Julian absorbed the blow, snarled through a bloodied grin, and lunged. His massive forearm struck Daniel across the chest, slamming Daniel backward into the opposite hallway wall with bone-shattering force.
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"You've got fire, little architect," Julian hissed, raising the iron chain wrapped around his knuckles. "Let's see how much fire you've got when I put you on the same leash your brat wore!"
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