The wax was stamped with an image of a broken balance scale.

“Do you know what this symbol means?” I asked, looking at the seal.

My grandfather leaned closer, his face turning pale as he saw the wax.

“The Syndicate,” Elias whispered, his voice shaking.

“What is the Syndicate?” Julian asked.

“The people who funded Arthur’s first projects,” Thomas said.

“They are not ordinary investors, Julian.”

“They are the ones who truly control the land beneath Chicago.”

I carefully broke the black wax seal.

I pulled out a single sheet of heavy parchment paper.

The handwriting was sharp and precise, written in dark black ink.

“The inheritance comes with a price, Valerie Cross,” I read aloud.

“We are coming to collect the debt.”

Suddenly, the lights in the library flickered and died.

The entire mansion was plunged into darkness.

Outside, the wind howled against the glass windows.

A second later, the low hum of the backup generator kicked in.

The emergency lights cast a faint, green glow across the room.

From the hallway outside, we heard a loud, heavy thud.