Chapter 3 - THE SINS OF THE FATHER
The rain turned the Manhattan streets into slick, black mirrors as Luke’s SUV tore toward the Mercer estate in the Hamptons. He left Marco at the hospital with explicit orders: shoot anyone who bypassed the security desk, badge or no badge.
Luke kicked the heavy mahogany doors of his family’s ancestral home off their hinges.
Silas Mercer was sitting by the fireplace, swirling a glass of scotch, perfectly composed. “Luke. You’re tracking mud on the Persian rugs.”
Luke didn't speak. He crossed the room in three strides, grabbed his older brother by the throat, and slammed him into the stone mantle. The crystal glass shattered, scotch bleeding into the embers.
“You touched her,” Luke hissed, drawing his sidearm and pressing the cold barrel directly beneath Silas’s jaw. “You went after Elena.”
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Silas choked, his eyes wide with genuine panic, but a cruel smile twisted his lips. “Father ordered it. She was a liability. You were weak, Luke. You let a woman soften you. You divorced her, but you didn't erase her. We had to clean up your mess before she spawned a half-breed heir.”
The gun clicked. Before Luke could pull the trigger, the booming voice of Arthur Mercer, the patriarch, echoed from the balcony. “Stand down, Luke! She is nothing but collateral!”
