Alejandro stared at the dark brown stains smeared across Elena’s white apron.
Wait. Not dirt.
Dried blood.
Vivian took another arrogant sip of her red wine, her heels clicking against the modern glass staircase. “She practically begged to scrub the floors, Alejandro. You should see how well she follows orders.”
Alejandro’s shock didn’t turn to sorrow. It crystallized into absolute, terrifying rage. But not the kind that screams.
He stepped past his trembling wife and closed the distance to Vivian. He leaned in so close she could feel his breath. Her smug smile faltered as she looked into his eyes—eyes suddenly devoid of humanity.
Alejandro didn’t ask questions. He uttered two cold, deliberate words.
*”Destroy everything.”*
Vivian gasped. Her mouth fell open in pure, paralyzing horror.
Behind him, the terrified, cowering maid stopped shaking.
Elena slowly stood up. Her tears evaporated in a fraction of a second, replaced by a cold, predatory stare. She calmly cracked her neck, her fragile facade dropping entirely.
For three years, Alejandro hadn’t been searching for a lost victim. He and his wife had been hunting a phantom. When they couldn’t dismantle Vivian’s criminal empire from the outside, Elena had purposely gone missing. She had infiltrated the unbreachable fortress from the absolute bottom.
Elena wiped the bloody stain from her cheek. “The basement guards are neutralized,” she said, her voice sharp and steady in perfect English. “The perimeter is sealed.”
Vivian’s wine glass slipped from her paralyzed fingers, shattering against the white marble. Red liquid pooled across the floor. She spun around to flee up the stairs, but the massive black double doors slammed locked with a deafening *crack*.
Vivian finally understood.
The woman scrubbing her floors wasn’t a prisoner.
She was the executioner.