Chapter 5 - The Serpent Awakens
While the snowstorm buried the avenues below, news of the incident at Salon de Beauté spread through Manhattan's elite whispers like wildfire.
A billionaire mob boss dropping ninety grand to scrub a street urchin was juicy gossip for the tabloids. But to the men who ruled the city's underbelly, the details were chilling.
Inside a sprawling, dark-paneled mansion in Westchester, Julian Vance sat behind a massive mahogany desk. At fifty-two, Vance was impeccably groomed, with silver-streaked hair, cold predatory eyes, and a tailor-made three-piece suit. He was currently the acting CEO of Lancaster-Vance Global, the multi-billion-dollar conglomerate built upon the ruins of the Lancaster estate.
The heavy double doors of his office swung open. His head of security, a hulking man named Grigori with a faded red viper tattoo peeking above his collar, entered looking pale.
"Sir," Grigori said, setting a tablet on the desk. "We have a problem."
Vance didn't look up from his ledger. "Did Kane hijack another shipping container at the Newark port?"
"No, sir. This isn't business. It’s Kane’s personal movements this morning. He walked into an exclusive Fifth Avenue salon with a homeless woman."
Vance scoffed. "Adrian Kane playing savior? The boy is losing his edge. Why should I care about his PR stunts?"
"The stylist cut off over six feet of matted hair," Grigori continued, tapping the screen to bring up a grainy photo taken by a terrified salon assistant through the street window. "Look at the scar on her neck, Mr. Vance."
Julian Vance leaned forward. He zoomed in on the high-resolution image of the woman sitting under the salon lights.
His cigar slipped from his fingers, tumbling onto the mahogany desk and burning a dark, smoking hole into the antique finish.
"Impossible," Vance choked out, his aristocratic composure shattering instantly. "She was seven years old! We locked every exit! The entire third floor was doused in kerosene!"
"She's alive," Grigori said gravely. "And she's currently inside Kane's penthouse. If Kane presents her to the Board of Trustees or requests an emergency DNA probate hearing, your conservatorship of the Lancaster holdings will be voided overnight. Worse... she might remember the gunshots."
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Vance’s face contorted into a mask of pure, demonic rage. He slammed both palms onto the desk.
"She does not see another sunrise," Vance snarled. "Kane's building is a fortress, but Kane himself is arrogant. He thinks he can hide her in plain sight. Activate our sleeper cell in the NYPD. Call the Viper squad. If Kane tries to move her anywhere—to a clinic, to court, to a safehouse—you butcher them both on the asphalt!"
