Chapter 8 - Isaac’s Desperate Gamble Backfires
Driven mad by the total destruction of his life in less than twenty-four hours, Isaac refused to go down without a fight. In his twisted, narcissistic mind, everything that had happened was Flora’s fault. If he could just intimidate Flora—force her to sign a recantation and call off her brothers—he could save himself.
At 2:00 PM, Isaac met in an underground parking garage with a notorious fixer named Victor Vance—a distant cousin with ties to organized street syndicates.
“I need you to grab Flora,” Isaac whispered frantically, his eyes bloodshot and hands trembling. “She’s staying at the Sterling Grand Tower. Track her when she leaves for her medical checkup. Put her in a room, get her signature on these asset transfer reversals, and make sure she understands what happens if she refuses.”
Victor looked at Isaac like he was completely insane. “Are you out of your mind? You want me to touch Flora Sterling? Do you have any idea who Noah Sterling is? His security firm handles covert black ops for foreign prime ministers!”
Isaac slammed a bag containing five hundred thousand dollars in cash—the last remaining money he had hidden in a home safe—onto the hood of the car. “This is cash! Untraceable! Just grab her for two hours! Once I have her signature, her brothers will have to back off!”
Victor stared at the cash, greed overcoming his common sense. “Fine. But you owe me double when this is over.”
Forty-five minutes later, two black sedans followed Flora’s armored Maybach as it pulled out of the Sterling Grand Tower underground garage.
When the Maybach stopped at a red light near an industrial district underpass, the two sedans suddenly boxed it in, and six armed men with ski masks jumped out, crowbars and pistols drawn.
“Open the door! Get out of the car!” they shouted, pounding on the reinforced ballistic glass.
Inside the Maybach, Flora didn't even flinch. She sat calmly in the back seat, sipping iced tea while reading a novel.
Suddenly, the side doors of three unmarked delivery vans parked nearby flew open.
Before Victor’s men could even raise their weapons, twenty tactical enforcers from Noah’s elite unit swarmed the intersection. Flashbang grenades exploded with disorienting force, blinding the attackers. In less than fifteen seconds, all six thugs were disarmed, forced onto the asphalt, and restrained with zip-ties.
Noah walked calmly out of the lead van, stepping over the groaning men on the pavement. He walked straight to the car where Victor was trying desperately to reverse.
With a single, devastating punch, Noah smashed the driver-side window, reached in, unlocked the door, and dragged Victor out by his collar.
“Who hired you?” Noah asked, his voice dead and emotionless.
Victor was shaking so violently his teeth chattered. “Isaac! Isaac Vance! He paid us cash! He’s waiting at the abandoned warehouse on 4th Street! Don’t kill me, man! Please!”
Noah tossed Victor onto the ground like a bag of garbage. He turned to his lieutenant. “Hand them over to the federal task force along with the cash. Charge them with attempted kidnapping and interstate racketeering.”
Noah then turned toward the Maybach. The window rolled down smoothly.
Flora looked at her eldest brother with absolute calm. “Is Isaac at the warehouse?”
May you like
Noah nodded. “Yes.”
Flora closed her book. “Let’s go pay my husband a visit.”
