Chapter 5

  Inside the elevator, heading up.

  Fuck… what’s taking Dad so long?

  His big meeting was in the morning. So what’s the hold-up now? Even he can lose a reservation if he drags things out.

  The elevator doors slide open.

  I step out and crash into a familiar figure — someone I never thought I’d see again in this lifetime. It’s been three years.

  "Uncle Sebastian? No wonder Dad looked serious this morning.”

  He gives me that bright, nostalgic smile and pats my head. Still tall as hell.

  “Elijah… is that really you? You’ve grown. And thankfully, you look nothing like your father.”

  Anyone else would think he hates Dad, but he’s one of the few men alive who can joke about Thomas without dying.

  “Maybe. I don’t feel grown yet.”

  “You shouldn’t rush it. Growing up is supposed to sneak up on you. Like taxes.”

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  “Sebastian, we should leave. The car is ready,” one of his men says.

  Of course. Sebastian is always bouncing between meetings.

  “I guess that’s my cue,” he says. “But kid — try not to disappear for three years again.”

  A small laugh slips out. “I make no promises.”

  The elevator doors close.

  Matthew smirks at Sebastian.

  “I didn’t know you could make that face. Bright and cheerful. Almost didn’t recognize you, boss.”

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  The guard closest to Matthew’s shoulder drops instantly. Blood hits the walls, the floor, the metal.

  Sebastian’s calm shatters.

  “Vigo won’t be pleased,” he growls. “Not one damn bit. He wanted Thomas handling this. Thomas has the most influence in the underworld.”

  Matthew swallows.

  “I understand… but why shoot him, sir?”

  “He was the closest.”

  Sweat creeps down Matthew’s neck. If he’d stood one step nearer, maybe his brains would be dripping down the doors.

  “Hypocrite,” Matthew mutters.

  Silence fills the lift, thick with the metallic smell of blood.Until.....

  “Call Vivi,” Sebastian says. His voice is cold now. “If I’m getting fucked over, I’m not going down alone.”

  “Yes, sir"

  Back in Thomas’s office.

  “Dad, we’re already late for dinner. We should

  head out soon.”

  He looks at me with that distant stare — the kind where he’s facing me but not seeing me.

  Meaning everything I just said meant nothing.

  “Eli, go wait in the car. I’m still busy. We’ll eat somewhere else.”

  I don’t care when or where we eat.

  I just know he likes tradition… likes honoring Mom.A woman whose face I still haven’t seen.

  “It’s okay, Dad. As long as we’re still having dinner.”

  For the first time today, his expression softens into something human.

  A tired, gentle smile.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, kid.”

  I head outside toward the car by the street — far better than that dark, sketchy VIP lot he usually uses.