Chapter 5 - The First Target
Within a week, the wedding preparations were moving at breakneck speed across the city, plastered all over the tabloids as the social event of the year—the cold-blooded mafia boss marrying the mysterious woman who conquered the underground ring.
Behind closed doors, however, the real war had begun.
While Cassius was busy managing his international shipping routes, his new fiancée had quietly gained clearance to move through the lower levels of the estate—including his private archive room, where he kept records of every rival syndicate, corrupt politician, and past operation.
Late at night, while the rest of the mansion slept, she picked the biometric lock on the archive door in less than five seconds.
The room was lined with steel filing cabinets and digital servers. Her fingers flew across a secure terminal, downloading encrypted files containing the financial records of the Grey Syndicate over the past decade.
Suddenly, the soft click of a pistol hammer being pulled back echoed behind her in the dark.
"I was wondering when you'd finally show your hand," Cassius’s voice cut through the dark, cold and devoid of any warmth.
She didn't panic. She calmly pressed 'Enter' to finalize the download transfer onto a micro-drive, slipped it into her pocket, and turned around to face him.
Cassius stood near the doorway, holding a silenced pistol pointed directly at her chest. His eyes burned with a mixture of profound betrayal and icy rage.
"You're stealing from me," Cassius said quietly. "A smart woman would have waited until after the wedding, darling."
"I never cared about your money, Cassius," she replied, her voice steady as she took a slow step toward him, completely ignoring the barrel of the gun. "I care about the files in that server. Specifically, the ones from ten years ago—the files concerning the annihilation of the Sterling family."
Cassius froze. The gun wavered for a fraction of a second, a flash of genuine shock crossing his ruthless features.
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"The Sterlings..." Cassius muttered, his eyes widening slightly. "That was a ghost story. A corporate hit ordered by higher-ups before my time. How do you know that name?"
"Because," she whispered, stepping close enough for the cold metal of the pistol to press lightly against her collarbone, "I am the only one who survived it."
