Chapter 12 - The Race to the Slums
Richard did not call his usual driver.
He did not trust anyone in his security team anymore.
He drove his own sports car, navigating the crowded city streets with a desperate urgency.
He called Thomas on the way.
"Thomas, where did Sarah live before she passed away?" Richard asked, his voice tight with panic. "The exact address."
Thomas gave him the address of a rundown tenement building in the poorest district of the city.
"Why, Richard? What’s wrong?"
"I'll explain later, Thomas. Just stay with Emily. Do not let anyone near her."
Richard hung up and pressed down on the accelerator.
The rain began to pour, slicking the streets with water.
He arrived at the tenement building.
It was a dark, depressing place.
He ran up the concrete stairs, his expensive shoes splashing in puddles of dirty water.
He reached the third floor.
Apartment 302.
The door was slightly ajar.
Richard’s heart sank.
He pushed the door open.
The apartment was in ruins.
The small living room had been torn apart.
The old sofa was ripped open, the stuffing scattered across the floor.
Books were thrown from their shelves.
And in the center of the room, kneeling on the floor with a crowbar, was Marcus.
Marcus looked up, shock registering on his face for a split second.
Then, his expression turned cold and calculating.
"You're too late, Mr. Sterling," Marcus said, holding up a thick, dusty manila folder.
"Put it down, Marcus," Richard said, his voice deadly quiet.
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"I can't do that," Marcus replied, standing up. "Victoria offered me more money than you ever did. With this, I’ll never have to work a day in my life."
Marcus reached into his jacket, his hand moving toward a concealed weapon.
