As they reached their safe house, Dante set the crate down with a heavy thud. Leo pried it open with steady hands, revealing layers of carefully wrapped packages. Jillian's heart pounded as she leaned in, peeling back the first layer.
Inside, stacks of documents, neatly bound ledgers, and coded messages filled the crate. But what caught their attention were the smaller, velvet-lined boxes tucked in between. Jillian flipped one open, and a sharp breath escaped her lips.
Jewelry—rare, stolen, and priceless. Some pieces she recognized from past news reports of unsolved heists. Others looked ancient, possibly smuggled artifacts. But what made her stomach turn was the final item Dante uncovered—official seals and forged contracts bearing the names of high-ranking officials.
Leo ran a hand through his hair. "This isn't just smuggling. This is blackmail material. Corrupt deals, stolen wealth—Harlond isn't just involved, he's running the whole operation."
Jillian's fingers curled into a fist. If this got out, it wouldn't just take down Harlond. It would shake the entire foundation of power that protected him. But that also meant the risk they were taking had just multiplied.
They had proof. Now the question was—what were they going to do with it?
Jillian paced the length of the dimly lit room, her mind racing. They had proof—concrete evidence that could destroy Harlond and expose the entire network of corruption. But exposing it wasn't as simple as handing it over to the authorities.
"We can't just go public with this," Dante said, his voice low but firm. "If Harlond realizes we have this, we won't last a day."
Leo nodded, flipping through one of the ledgers. "And if we give it to the wrong person, it could disappear before it ever reaches the public. We need a plan."
Jillian exhaled slowly. They had to be smart. They needed to control how the information came out and ensure it landed in the right hands.
"We leak it in pieces," she finally said, determination hardening her voice. "If we release everything at once, they'll cover it up, spin the story, or worse, hunt us down. But if we control the narrative, drop bits and pieces to different sources, they'll start turning on each other. No one will know where the full truth is coming from."
Dante smirked. "Divide and conquer. I like it."
Leo leaned forward. "We'll need to move carefully. I can encrypt and send parts of the documents to journalists, whistleblowers, even rival business interests who'd love to see Harlond fall. But what about the most damning pieces? The stuff that directly links him?"
Jillian met his gaze. "We hold onto that. As leverage."
They had the power to bring Harlond down. But if they played their cards right, they could do more than expose him—they could dismantle everything he had built, piece by piece.
The battle raged within the walls of the Smith estate, turning the grand halls into a war zone. Harlond had fortified his stronghold, anticipating Victor's attack, and his preparations paid off. Armed guards held their ground, defending every corridor, while Victor's men fought viciously, desperate to take control.
Gunfire echoed through the estate, shattering glass and splintering wood. The once-opulent mansion was now a battleground of blood and chaos. Harlond moved with precision, directing his men while keeping himself protected. Unlike Victor, who fought with rage and desperation, Harlond was calculating, methodical.
As the fight dragged on, Victor's forces began to crumble. One by one, his men fell, overwhelmed by Harlond's superior numbers and strategic positioning. The estate had been designed to withstand attacks, and Victor had walked right into a trap.
In the final stand, Victor, wounded and furious, found himself cornered in the grand hall. Harlond stepped forward, his expression unreadable.
"It's over," he said, his voice calm but cold.
Victor, breathing heavily, glared at him, refusing to accept defeat. But he had no options left. His men were either dead or captured, and the estate was fully under Harlond's control.
The war between them had reached its climax, but Harlond wasn't one to leave loose ends. As he stared down at Victor, he knew one thing—this fight wouldn't end with just one battle. Even in victory, there were always more threats waiting in the shadows.
Harlond kept in mind that Victor was an enemy—not just because of what Camilla had told him, but because of the years of rivalry, hidden schemes, and power struggles between them. Camilla's warning had only confirmed what he had long suspected—Victor had been lurking, waiting for the right moment to strike. His interest in Camilla had only been a means to an end. Now, with Victor openly challenging him, Harlond knew he couldn't afford to let his guard down.
But this wasn't just about personal grudges. Victor was more than a nuisance; he was a direct threat to Harlond's empire, both in business and influence. Their paths had crossed too many times in the underground world of power deals, political manipulations, and silent wars over resources. Harlond had built his empire with precision, ensuring that every piece of his network remained under his control. Victor, on the other hand, thrived on disruption, taking what he wanted without regard for the balance of power. That was what made him dangerous—his unpredictability.
Harlond had anticipated a confrontation, but even he hadn't expected it to escalate to a full-scale battle on his own estate. The chaos of the fight had been swift and brutal. Gunfire had echoed through the halls, shattering windows, breaking furniture, and leaving behind the scent of gunpowder and blood. Harlond's men had been prepared, their training and numbers giving them the upper hand. Victor's forces, while skilled, hadn't expected such resistance.
Now, as silence settled over the battlefield, Harlond stepped forward, his boots crunching against the glass shards on the floor. Victor lay among the fallen, bruised and bleeding, but not yet defeated. His glare burned with defiance, but Harlond saw something else beneath it—realization. Victor had lost. His men were either dead or captured. He had no leverage left.
Harlond stood over him, his expression unreadable. There were many ways he could end this. A simple order and Victor would be gone, eliminated like any other obstacle that had dared to challenge him. But Harlond knew better than to act on impulse. There was a more strategic way to handle this. Victor knew things—secrets, names, deals that could be useful. Perhaps, for the first time, Victor Holloway would be the one at someone else's mercy.
Adjusting his cuffs, Harlond exhaled slowly. "You made a mistake coming here," he said, his voice calm but laced with finality. "And I don't believe in second chances."
Victor smirked despite his injuries, blood staining his teeth. "Then finish it."
But Harlond wasn't so sure he would—at least, not yet.