Chapter 13 - The Uninvited Guest
Back at the penthouse, evening had fallen once again, painting the Manhattan skyline in deep shades of indigo and neon amber. Nathan and Maggie were reviewing the final infrastructural audit reports when the private elevator chimed softly.
Ding.
Nathan froze. The private residential elevator was hard-locked to external access; only his personal biometric override or a valid family master key could trigger it from the lobby.
"Did you schedule maintenance?" Maggie asked instantly, her hand slipping toward the small drawer where a heavy backup flashlight rested—her modern substitute for the skillet.
"No," Nathan said, standing up slowly and drawing his sidearm from the concealment holster beneath his jacket. "Nobody should have access to this shaft."
The heavy steel doors slid open with a smooth pneumatic hiss.
Standing in the entryway was not an assassin, nor a federal agent, but a young man in his early twenties, holding a leather messenger bag that looked weathered and decades old. He wore a heavy wool coat, and his eyes—a striking, familiar shade of pale blue—scanned the luxurious penthouse with a mixture of awe and deep resentment.
"Who are you?" Nathan demanded, keeping the firearm lowered but ready. "How did you get up here?"
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The young man stepped forward, dropping the heavy bag onto the glass coffee table with a dull thud.
"My name is Thomas Rowe Junior," the young man said, his voice trembling slightly with suppressed fury. "And it's time you and I talked about what your family really stole from mine."
