The elevator doors opened, showing three men in dark, expensive suits. They didn’t seem like they belonged here, but they acted like they owned the place. Each man was calm, quiet, and alert, watching the room carefully like predators deciding who to attack first.
Sophia’s grip on the knife tightened. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. These men weren’t Vincent Romano’s. She could tell by the way they moved, steady, calm, dangerous. The kind of danger that didn’t need to shout to be feared.
Richard adjusted his tie, forcing his usual smooth smile, though Sophia could see the fear behind it. His voice was calm, but not steady enough to hide the tremor.
“Gentlemen,” he said, forcing politeness into his tone, “you must be lost. This is a private residence.”
The man in front stepped forwar
