The mansion rose like a jewel in the hills, its façade bathed in golden light that spilled across the manicured drive. Rows of gleaming luxury cars, sleek black sedans, polished sports coupes, and rare classics, lined the entrance, their chrome catching the glow of lanterns strung along the path.
Guests ascended the marble steps in a cascade of elegance. Women shimmered in gowns of silk and sequins, colors ranging from deep emerald to pale champagne, while men strode confidently in tailored tuxedos, their laughter mingling with the crisp night air.
Inside, the grandeur deepened. Crystal chandeliers hung low from vaulted ceilings, refracting light into a thousand glimmers that danced across polished floors. The walls were adorned with gilded mirrors and oil paintings of ancestors long gone, their stern gazes watching the revelry unfold.
Waiters in immaculate blue waistcoats and bowties moved gracefully through the crowd, trays balanced with precision. Each tray glittered with tall champagne flutes, bubbles rising like golden threads. Guests reached out with practiced ease, their conversations uninterrupted as glasses were exchanged with a smile.
The music swelled, classic strings and piano, a timeless melody that filled the hall with warmth. Couples drifted toward the dance floor, others lingered near the grand staircase, voices rising in bursts of laughter.
Upstairs, Preston stood stiffly as his mother adjusted his bowtie. Cynane Persson's face was smooth, her features unnaturally youthful after a recent facelift, but her eyes betrayed the sharpness of her true age.
"Just do as I told you," she murmured, tugging the fabric into place. "This position will rightfully be yours."
Preston sneered, his lips curling with resentment. "It should have been mine from the beginning. That old bastard was too biased, picking that brat."
Cynane's gaze hardened, her manicured fingers pausing at his collar. "I told you before, restrain yourself." Preston snorted coldly, but said nothing more.
Cynane Persson was Mazen Castel's second wife. His first had been his childhood sweetheart, Landen's mother, who died tragically in a car crash. When she passed, Mazen's family pressured him to remarry, and Cynane was waiting.
She had loved Mazen from the moment she first laid eyes on him, but he had been a married man. Before his first wife's body was even cold, her family arranged the union. The Persson family was eager. If Cynane's child became the Enforcer, their influence in the underworld would soar.
Cynane gained the title of wife, but she never won Mazen's heart. To him, she was a business arrangement, nothing more. Though he never showed it outwardly, Mazen disliked her, and with good reason.
She warned her son to restrain himself, but her own hatred burned. She loathed Dagur, the "bitch's son." She often wished Landen had died with his mother, so Dagur would never have existed.
Preston adjusted his cuffs, his voice low. "Are you sure those thugs will finish him off?"
The thugs he referred to were SS20, a small-time gang with personal animosity toward Dagur. Their members were serving in the same prison, and if all went well, Dagur would leave only in a body bag.
A knock interrupted them. Cynane's personal assistant stepped inside, bowing slightly. "Madam, it's time."
Her lips curved into a cold smile and she said, "Then let's begin."
***
Lila moved gracefully through the glittering ballroom, her bright red dress catching the light. Her hair was pinned elegantly, black gloves covering her fingers and forearms. She picked up a glass of champagne, her lips curving into a sly smile as she whispered into her earpiece, "This place is fancy."
Across the room, a middle-aged gentleman admired her from afar, and Lila returned his gaze with a subtle smile, playing her role perfectly.
In the van deep in the forested hills, Dex's voice crackled through the comms. "They have got money to burn. Don't mind us taking a little bit of it."
Eli, dressed in a waiter's uniform, replied casually while walking down a corridor. "They won't miss it anyway."
Suddenly, he turned a corner and nearly collided with a tall man. The scar across his eye made Eli's stomach drop. The man wore a black suit, a security earpiece tucked neatly in place. Eli almost yelped in fright but quickly bowed his head, apologizing profusely.
The man glared at him before continuing down the hall. Eli exhaled in relief until the man paused mid-step. "Wait a minute."
Eli froze, his blood running cold. Slowly, he turned back.
Marcel's calm voice came through the earpiece saying, "Relax. You are just a regular waiter doing your job."
Eli forced a smile as the scar-faced man approached. That's when Eli noticed the security card clipped to the man's belt. It was supposed to be Lila's job to swipe it, but the opportunity was right there and Eli was really good at stealing.
As though fate was testing him, the man stepped closer, adjusting Eli's collar. Eli stiffened, his fingers twitching with temptation. The card was within reach.
The scar-faced man's voice was low, authoritative. "These are very important people. Don't give them an opportunity to make things difficult for you."
Eli bowed his head quickly. "Oh, thank you."
But beneath his calm exterior, Eli had already swiped the card from the man's belt, scanning it with a subtle flick of his wrist. In the van, Dex's screen lit up as the scanned data came through.
The man stepped back, and Eli bent down, pretending to notice something on the ground. He held up a card. "Sir, is this yours?"
The man frowned, then nodded. "Yes, thanks," he said, taking it back without suspicion.
In the tunnel hidden deep in the forest, Marcel's voice came through the comms. "Did you give him the replica?"
Eli smirked. "Yep. He won't even notice it's gone."
Lila, sipping champagne, smiled faintly. "Ohh sweetie, you are making my job easy today."
Eli grinned as he replied, "How about you buy me dinner after this to show your sincerity?"
"Deal," Lila whispered, her eyes shifting as she noticed movement near the stairs. A middle-aged man and a woman descended, their resemblance showing they were related.
"The party's about to start," Lila murmured into her earpiece.
Dex zoomed in on the pair through the feed from Lila's brooch camera, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he searched their identities in the background.
Marcel removed the cover at the tunnel entrance, his voice steady. "We are going in. Tell me if there's anything."
Rhea lit the torch fixed to her hat, stepping forward, but Marcel raised a hand. "I will go in first." She nodded, falling in behind him as the shadows swallowed them both.