PART 2: The SUV tore through Manhattan like the city had split open behind us

The room seemed to tilt violently on its axis.

I forgot how to breathe, my fingers dropping the leather ledger as it fell to the dusty floor with a dull thunk. The woman standing before me had the exact same silver-streaked hair, the exact same small mole just below her left collarbone, and the exact same posture she always assumed when she was tired after a long shift at the pharmacy.

"Mom?" I whispered, my voice breaking into a tiny, pathetic sob. "How... how are you here?"

The woman didn't move. She didn't smile like she had in the photograph from the clinic. Her eyes were completely vacant, staring right through me as if I were nothing more than a pane of glass.

"She can't hear you, my dear," Don Holloway chuckled, his voice dripping with a sickening, grandfatherly warmth. "At least, not the version of her you remember. You see, Clara Carter was a phenomenal scientist, but she underestimated the length to which the Holloway family would go to protect our investments. She didn't die in that ICU eight months ago. We simply purchased the hospital staff, simulated her death, and brought her to our private facility to extract the rest of her data."

Adrian shifted his stance, blocking half of my body with his shoulder, his gun never wavering from Holloway's chest. "You drugged her. A neuro-blocker sequence."

"A very advanced one, yes," Holloway admitted, casually gesturing with his revolver. "She's been quite cooperative under the influence. She gave us the blueprints to this vault, and more importantly, she confirmed that her little miracle daughter had successfully conceived the Blackwood heirs. Do you know what three healthy Blackwood heirs are worth on the international underworld market, Adrian? Billions. The families who have been suppressed by the Blackwood monopoly for decades would pay any price to own the future of your syndicate."

"You won't leave this pier alive, Holloway," Adrian stated, his voice terrifyingly calm. "My men have the entire block surrounded."

"Oh, I'm sure they do," Holloway smiled, his gold teeth glinting in the harsh neon light. "But your men don't have the codes to the structural demolition charges we planted along the foundation beams of this pier twenty minutes ago. If my heart rate monitor drops, or if I press this little button in my pocket, the entire structure collapses into the river. You might survive the blast, Adrian, but your precious pregnant waitress certainly won't."

I looked at my mother, desperation clawing at my throat. "Mom! Look at me! It's Vivien! I'm pregnant... I'm having the babies. Three of them. The ones you wrote about in the ledger!"

At the mention of the word ledger, a sudden, violent tremor rippled through my mother's vacant expression. Her pupils dilated instantly, and her breathing turned shallow and rapid.

"Vivien..." she mumbled, her voice sounding scratchy and weak, like an engine trying to turn over after years of rust. "The... the sequence... don't let them take..."

"Shut her up!" Holloway barked, his face twisting into an ugly snarl as he turned his gun toward my mother.

BANG.

The gunshot exploded within the enclosed steel vault, the sound deafening. But it wasn't Holloway's gun that had fired.

Adrian had anticipated the movement. His bullet tore straight through Holloway's right shoulder, shattering the bone and sending the silver revolver spinning across the floor. Holloway screamed, collapsing into a heap as dark blood began to pool beneath his expensive suit.

"Marcus, grab the mother!" Adrian shouted, lunging forward to pin Holloway to the ground before he could reach the detonator in his pocket.

But before Marcus could even take a step, a loud, mechanical countdown sequence began to blare from the vault's automated speaker system.