It started with a whisper.
Then a file.
Then a gun to Linda's back.
—
She was sketching at the library window when the door burst open.
Marco stormed in, expression stone-cold. “Don't move."
Behind him, two armed guards flanked the doorway.
Linda stood, startled. “What—?"
“Get up. Now."
One grabbed her arm.
“Marco, what's going on?"
He didn't answer.
They dragged her through the halls, past startled staff and silent cameras. Down the servant stairwell. Deeper. Past the wine cellar. Into a passage she hadn't seen before.
The walls turned to concrete.
The lights flickered.
And then the door appeared—thick steel, marked with rust and history.
Marco unlocked it with a biometric scan.
The guards shoved her inside.
The air was ice. Chains dangled from the ceiling. A single iron
