THE MINISTER SIN

CHAPTER ONE Matty Washington, D.C. United States The building was supposed to be empty. That was the first thing I thought when I heard the footsteps. I stood on the unfinished third floor, the folder containing the latest construction reports pressed against my chest. 8:47 p.m. I shouldn't have still been there. The workers had left hours ago. My architect had gone home. Even the security guard had disappeared downstairs after insisting that I was wasting my evening inspecting a building that wouldn't be completed for another six months. I didn't care. The building belonged to me. Everything was supposed to be under control. I hated leaving things to chance. Then I heard footsteps. Fast. Heavy. Coming from downstairs. I froze. One set. Then another. The first sounded frantic. The second was slower. Steady. Almost unhurried. Someone was running. Someone else was following. I moved away from the corridor and slipped behind one of the unfinished concrete pillars. I hated hiding. But I wasn't stupid. The person running sounded terrified. The person following didn't. A man suddenly stumbled into view. He nearly fell before catching himself against the wall. I didn't recognize him. His clothes were dusty, his breathing ragged, and his eyes kept darting toward the stairs. He looked like a man who knew something terrible was coming. He ran again. His foot caught on something. He fell hard. "Please..." The word barely reached me. Then I heard footsteps again. Slow. Measured. One step. Then another. A man appeared at the top of the stairs. He wore a dark suit. No tie. His sleeves were rolled neatly to his forearms. He wasn't running. He wasn't even breathing heavily. He walked into the unfinished floor like he owned it. The man on the ground scrambled backward. "No." The stranger stopped. His gaze settled on him. Then he spoke. "Running from death?" His voice was calm. Too calm. I stared at him from behind the pillar. There was something unsettling about the way he carried himself. He didn't look like someone who had chased another man through an unfinished building. He looked like someone who already knew how this would end. Another man appeared behind him. Broad shoulders. Dark clothes. His face covered with mask. He walked toward the man on the floor. "Please," the man begged. "I can explain." The second man slapped him. The sound echoed through the empty building. I flinched. The stranger didn't. "Bring him here." His voice was quiet. The other man grabbed the terrified man and dragged him across the floor. A wooden chair sat nearby. The stranger picked it up, turned it around, and sat. He crossed one leg over the other. Completely relaxed. Like this was an ordinary evening. Like he hadn't just hunted someone down. Like the unfinished building wasn't about to become a crime scene. The man was forced onto his knees in front of him. "Jason, please." My eyes narrowed. Jason. The stranger's expression didn't change. "You know I hate lies." "I didn't steal everything." A quiet silence settled over the room. Jason's eyes narrowed. "You stole my drugs." "I was going to pay you back." A quiet, humorless laugh escaped Jason. "Pay me back?" The man lowered his head. "I needed the money." "So you sold what wasn't yours." "I had no choice." Jason tilted his head. "How much did you sell it for?" The man hesitated. "Jason” "How much?" "Two hundred thousand." The room went silent. Jason stared at him. "Two hundred thousand dollars?" The man swallowed. "It was all I could get." Jason slowly stood from the chair. "You stole millions of dollars worth of product..." He took a step forward. "...and sold it for two hundred thousand dollars?" The man's face tightened. "I didn't know what it was worth." Jason stopped in front of him. "You knew enough to steal it." The man looked up at him. "Please." Jason's gaze remained cold. "You stole from me, sold my drugs for a pathetic amount, ran from my men and hid inside a building that belongs to my woman." The man's face went pale. "Your woman?" Jason said nothing. He didn't need to. The man looked terrified now. My woman? My heart stopped. I almost looked behind me, as though there could possibly be another woman hiding on the floor with me. There wasn't. I was the only one here. And I had never seen this man in my life. Jason turned toward his right-hand man. "Take him." "Jason, please!" The pleading followed them across the floor. I couldn't look anymore. I turned my face away and squeezed my eyes shut. A few moments later, everything went quiet. Too quiet. I slowly opened my eyes. Jason was standing. His right-hand man was already moving away. Jason adjusted the cuff of his shirt, completely composed. Then he stopped. My heart dropped. Slowly, his head lifted. His eyes traveled toward the upper floors. Floor by floor. Until they reached mine. I froze behind the pillar. There was no way he could see me. I had been careful. I hadn't made a sound. But then his eyes settled exactly where I was hiding. He smiled. Not a big smile. Just the slightest curve of his lips. A knowing smile. My stomach dropped. He knew. He had known I was there. Jason held my gaze for another second before turning away. He walked toward the stairs as though nothing had happened. I remained completely still. My heart was pounding so hard I was certain he could hear it. Who was this man? And why did he look at me like he had been waiting to find me? I didn't know Jason. At least, I thought I didn't. But as I watched him disappear down the stairs, one thing became painfully clear. He knew me. And somehow, that was more terrifying than the man who had just died. I rushed out of the building. I didn't stop to look back. My heels struck the unfinished floor as I hurried down the stairs, my heart pounding harder with every step. I pulled out my phone and called my driver. "Where are you?" "Outside, ma'am." "Ok” I ended the call before he could ask anything else. By the time I reached the entrance, I had already forced my expression back into place. Calm. Controlled. Untouchable. Exactly how I liked it. But my hands were still shaking. I hated that. I got into the car and shut the door behind me. "Home," I said. "Yes, ma'am." The car pulled away. I stared through the window, watching the lights outside blur together. I couldn't stop thinking about him. Jason. That was the only thing I knew about him. Jason. He was Black. Definitely Nigerian. He looked rich. Not just rich. The kind of rich where you didn't question whether someone belonged in a place—you assumed they did. The suit. The watch. The car. The men who followed his orders without hesitation. And then there was the confidence. The f*****g confidence of killing someone inside my building like he had every right to be there. My jaw tightened. Who the hell was he? And why had he chosen my building? There were thousands of places he could have taken that man. Why mine? I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes. I could still hear his voice. Running from death? Then that smile. That f*****g smile when he looked upstairs. He knew I was there. I was certain of it. My fingers curled against my palm. He deserved to rot in jail. I didn't care how rich he was. I didn't care who he knew. He had killed someone on my property. And I was going to find out exactly who Jason was. The car finally pulled into the driveway. I straightened immediately. Before stepping out, I took a slow breath. Whatever I had witnessed tonight, I wasn't going to let anyone see me shaken. Not my driver. Not my father. Not anyone. I stepped inside. My father was waiting in the sitting room. The moment he saw me, his face lit up. "Oh, Matty Mitchell." I stopped. He smiled proudly. "You have made your father proud." I gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Dad." He walked toward me. "Soon, you'll be announced as the President of the United States of America." My smile remained in place. "Hopefully." He laughed. "Not hopefully." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Definitely." I nodded. He couldn't see the faint tremor in my fingers. He couldn't know what had happened tonight. No one could. I had spent my entire life learning how to control my expression, my emotions, my reactions. Tonight would be no different. I walked past him and headed upstairs. But one thought followed me all the way to my bedroom. Jason. I needed to know who he was. And why he had chosen my building. Because whoever he was, he had just walked into my life. and committed a murder in my f*****g building. He deserved to rot in jail.