Josephine stood in tears clutching a battered wooden rocking horse covered in marker scribbles as Grandfather Robert shoved it toward her, laughing bitterly with Clara that the ruined toy was a perfect match for the little girl.

Bennett didn't move. He leaned back in his leather executive chair, his expression completely devoid of any familial warmth. He stared at his older sister, watching her grovel on the floor, feeling nothing but a profound sense of justice. "Where is Silas?" Bennett asked, his voice a steady, grounding anchor of pure intimidation. Clara wiped her mascara-stained cheeks, looking up with desperate hope. "If I tell you, will you release my personal accounts? Will you give me my house back?" "I do not negotiate with people who mock my child," Bennett replied, his tone chillingly flat. "But if you give me actionable intelligence, I will ensure your children's college funds remain intact. That is my only offer." Clara swallowed hard, realizing she had absolutely no leverage against the empire he had built. "He contacted a man named Graves. A mercenary. He plans to ambush your convoy tomorrow morning when you take Josephine to her private academy." Marcus stiffened behind the desk, his hand instinctively dropping to his sidearm. "Sir, that is a highly coordinated threat." Bennett slowly stood up, buttoning his tailored vest. "Let him try. Clara, you will go back to Robert and tell him you failed. You will not mention this conversation. If you warn Silas that we know his plan, I will personally see to it that you never see a single dime of your trust again." "I won't say a word," Clara promised, shivering. "Just please, don't kill him."