“Ah, the great Adrian Romano,” Marcus said, his smile widening. “I hoped you would be listening.”

He leaned closer to the lens, his expression turning cold.

“I want the decrypt keys to the Romano Holdings financial archives,” Marcus said.

My heart stopped.

Those archives contained thirty years of private transactions, offshore accounts, and proprietary trade algorithms.

If a rival syndicate got those keys, they could dismantle Adrian’s entire empire in a single afternoon.

“You have two hours,” Marcus said.

“That is impossible,” I gasped. “The keys are stored on a secure local server in the penthouse.”

“Then you had better start moving, Emily,” Marcus replied.

He reached toward the camera, his thumb obscuring the lens for a second.

“If I do not have the digital signature in my inbox by midnight, I will start with her fingers,” he said.

The screen went black.

The call ended.

I stared at the blank glass of my phone, my hands trembling so violently I almost dropped it.

“He has her,” I sobbed, pressing my forehead against the cold passenger-side window. “Adrian, he is going to kill her.”