Chapter 7 - The Breach
A sudden, deafening crash rattled the windows of the study. The sound of splintering wood and shattered glass echoed from the grand foyer downstairs.
They were inside.
"Julian!" Beatrice’s scream cut through the house, followed by the heavy, rhythmic thud of combat boots on the marble stairs.
"They're coming up," I whispered, reaching into the desk drawer for the heavy brass letter opener—the only weapon I had left.
"Stay behind me," Mara said, her fingers flying across the keyboard. "Upload at ninety-five percent... ninety-eight..."
The study door was kicked off its hinges with a violent bang. Two men in dark tactical gear and balaclavas stepped into the room, their suppressed submachine guns raised and pointed directly at my chest.
Behind them walked a man in a pristine grey wool coat. He was middle-aged, with silver-rimmed glasses and the calm, intellectual demeanor of a university professor.
"Dr. Sterling," I said, my grip tightening on the letter opener. "The family doctor."
"Good morning, Julian," Sterling said, stepping into the room and brushing a speck of drywall dust from his sleeve. "I’m sorry it had to come to this. I really did hope the cardiotonic would do the work quietly. But your mother’s creditors are very impatient men."
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"You're a murderer," I spat. "You took an oath."
"I took an oath to preserve life, Julian," Sterling smiled coldly. "My own life. The Macau syndicate owns my clinic. If I didn't help them secure the Miller trust, my own children would have been delivered to me in boxes. You understand the math of survival, don't you?"
